CHRISTINE 


YOUfNG  HEART 


LOUISE  BREITENBACH  CLANCY 


CHRISTINE 
OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 


CHRISTINE 
OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

A  NOVEL 


BY 

LOUISE  BREITENBACH  CLANCY 

Author  of  "Alma  of  Hadley  Hall,"  "Eleanor  of 
the  Houseboat,"  etc.,  etc. 


Copyright,  1920, 

BY  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
(INCOEPOEATED) 


TO 

THE  REAL  PAUL  DENTON— 

MY  HUSBAND 


2134712   . 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    INTRODUCING  CHRISTINE i 

II    A  CHANGE  OF  FORTUNE 10 

III  A  MARRIAGE  POSTPONED 22 

IV  LISTENERS  NEVER  HEAR  ANY  GOOD  OF  THEM- 

SELVES      33 

V    LAME  DOGS  AND  FREDDY  BLUE 45 

VI    STOLEN  CRUTCHES 60 

VII    CALLERS 72 

VIII  A  SHORT  CHAPTER  —  JUST  A  LETTER  FROM  CORT    84 

IX    RUNAWAY  TWINS 85 

X    THE  ACCIDENT 97 

XI     CHRISTINE  TURNS  A  CORNER 108 

XII    TANGLED  THREADS 120 

XIII  WRINKLES 135 

XIV  AN  EMPTY  PURSE 149 

XV  JENNIE  CHUBB  AND  AN  ENVELOPE     ....   165 

XVI     CHRISTINE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 177 

XVII  THE  BROOCH  WITH  THE  MEDUSA  HEAD  .     .     .191 

XVIII    DOUGLAS  TALKS 204 

XIX    JENNIE  CHUBB  AGAIN 216 

XX  CHRISTINE   DRIVES   DR.    DENTON'S    CAR     .     .  228 

XXI     CHRISTINE'S  SURPRISE  BASKET 249 

XXII    A  DIARY 265 

XXIII  ST.  MARK'S  FUND 280 

XXIV  THE  GEORGE  POTTSES'  GARDEN  FETE  ....  293 
XXV  FREDDY  TAKES  THINGS  INTO  HER  OWN  HANDS  314 

XXVI    A  GRATE  FIRE  AND  —  THE  END 331 


CHRISTINE 
OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 


CHRISTINE  OF  THE 
YOUNG  HEART 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCING    CHRISTINE 

The  eyes  of  every  man  in  the  white  marble  lobby 
of  the  Tremont  Club  paid  tribute  to  her  youth  and 
beauty.  But  Christine  Trevor  flashed  by  on  the  arm 
of  Dr.  Denton  as  unconscious  of  her  loveliness  as  any 
flower  of  its  fragrance.  And,  indeed,  that  blustery 
gray  March  afternoon  she  resembled  nothing  on  earth 
so  much  as  some  rare  yellow  flower,  with  her  hair  of 
red-gold  hooded  under  a  yellow  velvet  toque,  and  her 
slim,  lithe  body  encased  in  pale  yellow  broadcloth  and 
brown  furs,  with  the  note  of  yellow  artfully  repeated 
in  the  bouquet  of  orchids  and  roses  at  her  belt. 

Her  gold-brown  eyes,  brilliant  with  excitement,  were 
raised  to  her  companion's  face,  and  she  was  chattering 
gaily  as  he  hurried  her  through  the  revolving  door. 

"  It  was  dear  of  you,  Docky," —  smilingly  she  re- 
verted to  the  pet  name  of  her  childhood  for  the  grave- 
eyed  man  who  was  helping  her  into  his  cab  — "  to  call 
for  me.  I  was  beginning  to  feel  like  one  of  the  babes 
in  the  woods,  lost  or  forgotten  or  something.  Father 
said  he'd  send  James  and  the  limousine.  Had  a  pretty 
bad  smash  in  my  own  car  yesterday  —  merely  tried  to 
push  a  street  car  out  of  my  way  in  my  hurry.  But 


2       CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

no  James  and  no  'bus.  Something  must  be  the  mat- 
ter with  father's  'phone  —  chief  operator  couldn't  get 
me  the  line,  and  I've  had  the  finest  case  of  fidgets 
for  the  past  half  hour  wondering  how  I'd  ever  make 
the  Payne-Scrantons'  dinner-dance  they're  giving  for 
Cort  and  me  to-night.  None  of  the  girls  was  going 
my  way.  Oh,  Docky,"  she  said,  as  if  this  were  a 
new  thought,  "  how  did  you  happen  to  drop  in  for  me  ? 
You're  always  eyes-over  in  work.  Did  father  finally 
remember  he  had  a  daughter  stranded  at  the  club?  " 

"  I  was  at  your  father's  office,"  Dr.  Denton  returned, 
evasively. 

"  You're  a  perfect  duck,"  she  flashed  up  at  him  a 
warm  smile.  "  Guggles,  but  I'm  a  frazzle.  This 
bridge  luncheon  was  a  real  bang-up  affair  to-day. 
Susanne  said  she  knew  she'd  have  to  put  on  some 
side  to  make  such  a  feted,  blase,  first-season-out  girl 
as  I  bat  even  an  eyelash.  But  you  should  have  seen 
that  wonderfully  good-looking  table,  with  the  clever- 
est centerpiece  to  represent  the  ocean  —  of  course,  Cort 
and  I  were  aboard  the  tiny  yacht,  headed  for  South 
America.  All  the  girls  told  me  in  at  least  ten  dif- 
ferent ways  how  dead  lucky  I  am  to  be  invited  on  this 
cruise  with  Cort  and  his  father  and  his  ducky  old  Aunt 
Mary,  now  when  things  are  beginning  to  stale  here. 

"  But  somehow,  Docky,  I  never  think  about  my  be- 
ing lucky  —  nice  things  are  bound  to  happen  to  me. 
They  always  have.  But  what  do  you  suppose  Agnes 
Archer  said  to  me?  " 

Dr.  Denton  skilfully  threaded  his  way  between  a 
heavy  automobile  truck,  a  street  car,  and  a  street 
water-wagon,  before  he  ventured  a  quiet,  interrogative, 
"Yes?" 


INTRODUCING  CHRISTINE  3 

Christine  tucked  a  rebellious  strand  of  burnished 
gold  hair  under  her  toque  as  she  answered,  with  her 
pretty  swirl  of  laughter.  "  She  said  I'm  the  most 
spoiled  of  spoiled  girls,  that  I'd  always  had  every- 
thing for  so  long  —  nineteen  whole  years,  Docky, — 
that  I  thought  the  whole  world  belonged  to  me.  You 
know  Agnes  is  —  well,  I'm  awfully  fond  of  her  —  but 
sometimes  she  does  scratch  until  the  blood  comes. 
She  went  on  to  say  that  every  one  knows  I'm  the  only 
debutante  who  didn't  wear  herself  to  a  cat's  shadow 
to  get  Cortland  Van  Ness,  but  it'd  been  my  fool  luck 
to  have  him  fall  for  me  at  first  sight,  and  she  knew  I 
didn't  love  him  —  I  couldn't,  because  I  didn't  have  a 
soul,  or  a  heart,  but  some  day  I'd  get  one,  a  sort  of 
Cupid-and-Psyche  affair.  Oh,  I  tell  you  Aggie  was 
some  little  crabapple  today,  but  I  rather  guess  losing 
Cort's  been  rough  on  her,  and  she  just  had  to  blow  off. 
We  kissed  goodbye  like  the  best  of  friends,  but,"  Chris- 
tine shrugged  her  fine  shoulders  expressively,  "  I  don't 
like  unpleasant  people  or  unpleasant  things." 

"  I  fear  you'll  put  me  in  the  same  category,"  Dr. 
Denton  remarked  in  his  quiet  way,  when  the  girl 
stopped  for  breath.  They  had  left  the  congested  down- 
town thoroughfares  and  were  humming  swiftly  out 
Jefferson  Avenue,  with  its  rapidly  shifting  panorama 
of  magnificent  homes  set  in  spacious  grounds,  now 
shrouded  in  the  gray  of  a  quick- falling  twilight. 

«    T  » 

He  shot  a  glance  at  the  radiant  young  face,  drew 
a  deep  breath,  hesitated,  then  plunged  ahead. 
"  Your  father  was  taken  ill  in  his  office  this  after- 
noon." 

Christine    stared    her    disbelief.     "  Father    ill !     I 


4       CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

never  knew  father'd  take  time  to  be  ill.     He's  too 
busy." 

"  It  would  have  been  better,"  her  companion  began, 
with  a  hesitation  foreign  to  his  usual  simple  direct- 
ness of  manner,  "  if  he  had  taken  time.  I've  warned 
him  — " 

"  He  isn't  very  ill,  though,  is  he  ?  "  she  broke  in, 
panic  falling  on  her  suddenly. 

"  It's  very  difficult  to  tell  sometimes,"  he  countered, 
"  in  these  sudden  seizures  — "  He  cut  himself  short, 
only  to  draw  a  quick  breath  and  proceed  on  another 
tack.  "  You've  never  seemed  very  attached  to  your 
father,  Christie.  My  father  was  my  idol  as  well  as 
my  ideal." 

"  Oh,  father's  all  right,"  conceded  the  girl.  "  He's 
certainly  been  horribly  generous  with  my  allowance 
this  year,  and  even  when  I've  run  up  bills  besides,  he's 
never  said  a  word,  though  once  or  twice  I  fancied  he 
looked  worried.  Do  you  think  father's  had  money 
troubles,  Docky,  and  that's  why  he's  ill  now  ? " 
Through  her  voice  surged  a  dread.  "  Have  I  been 
bankrupting  him  ?  " 

Dr.  Denton's  answer  came  somewhat  slowly,  guard- 
edly. "  Your  father's  attack  is  the  result  of  some 
tremendous  shock.  I  doubt  that  your  extravagances 
were  a  serious  contributory  cause  to  his  —  break- 
down." 

"  You  never  can  tell  a  thing  about  father,"  Chris- 
tine went  on,  musingly.  "  He  out-sphinxes  the 
Sphinx  in  being  mysterious  and  unapproachable,  but 
being  a  debutante's  a  real  noblesse  oblige,  Docky. 
You've  got  to  do  things  and  have  things  or  you're  in, 
not  out.  It's  just  that  I  don't  know  father.  Why, 


INTRODUCING  CHRISTINE  5 

sometimes  I  don't  see  him  oftener  than  once  a  week, 
and  then  only  for  a  jiff.  I  suppose  things  would  have 
been  heaps  different,"  her  eyes  softened  dreamily,  "  if 
mother  hadn't  been  —  taken  the  day  Daffy  and  Dilly 
came.  I  can  remember  the  ripping  times  we  used  to 
have  in  the  nursery.  You'd  drop  in  after  your  visit 
to  Laurie  when  mother  was  spinning  one  of  her  won- 
derful yarns  before  a  rousing  grate-fire,  then  we'd 
wind  up  by  having  a  Zoo  and  all  being  wild  animals. 
You  always  insisted  on  being  a  camel,  and  oh !  — oh !  — 
what  thrilling  rides  you'd  give  us  through  the  desert! 
You  always  seemed  like  a  boy,  just  one  of  us,  and 
mother  and  father  were  never  tired  of  telling  people 
of  all  you  were  doing  for  Laurie,  though  you  were  such 
a  young  doctor.  I  quite  adored  you  in  those  days, 
Docky." 

She  laid  a  little  flutter  of  a  gloved  hand  on  his  arm, 
but  the  man  said  nothing.  He  kept  his  eyes  fixed, 
not  on  the  glowing  young  face  at  his  shoulder,  but 
on  the  strip  of  asphalt  straight  ahead. 

"  Then  I  went  off  to  boarding-school,"  she  took  up 
the  thread  of  reminiscence  again,  "  and  when  I  came 
home  mother  was  gone  and  everything  seemed  dif- 
ferent, even  you."  She  sought  his  eyes  with  hers 
in  the  darkness  of  the  cab  but  he  still  looked  straight 
ahead.  "  You  seemed  so  old  and  wise,  and  you  al- 
ways made  me  feel  so  young  and  foolish,  and  we 
never  had  any  more  romps  in  the  nursery  or  cozy  con- 
fidences on  the  davenport  when  I  told  you  all  my 
childish  joys  and  sorrows." 

"  When  you  came  back  you  were  no  longer  my 
playfellow  and  little  comrade,"  Dr.  Denton  spoke  at 
last,  "  but  a  dignified  young  person,  with  her  hair 
high  on  her  head  and  her  skirts  trailing." 


6       CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Christine's  merry  ripple  of  laughter  floated  out. 
"  That  was  the  style  then  to  make  yourself  look  like 
your  own  grandmother.  But  now  I  hardly  ever  see 
you.  Oh,  I  don't  need  to  be  told  I'm  a  gay  butter- 
fly, always  on  the  wing.  Father  says  I  could  pass  the 
kiddies  on  the  street  and  never  know  them,  but  the 
twins  are  such  babies  —  they're  never  out  of  the  nurs- 
ery —  and  —  and  —  Laurie  — ,  I've  seen  it  in  your  eyes 
ever  so  many  times,  Docky,  you'despise  me  for  avoid- 
ing Laurie.  But  if  you  only  knew  how  I  hate,  hate, 
hate  ugly  things.  I  just  can't  help  loving  gay,  bright, 
beautiful  people." 

"  Laurie's  the  gayest,  brightest  little  soul  that's  ever 
strayed  from  heaven,"  commented  her  companion, 
more  to  himself  than  to  her,  "  and  he's  beautiful,  too. 
'Not  his  body,  but  all  the  beauty  that  was  denied  his 
body  went  into  the  making  of  his  soul.  It's  the 
beauty  of  his  soul  that  makes  him  such  a  master  of 
his  violin.  Why,  the  boy's  a  genius ! " 

Christine  shivered  involuntarily,  and  wrapped  her 
furs  more  closely  about  her.  "  But  he's  crippled,  and 
I  never  could  forget  that.  Sometimes  I  think  that 
Cort  wouldn't  be  my  —  Cort,"  she  admitted,  with  a 
sudden  delicious  shyness,  "if  he  weren't  the  best- 
looking  man  on  the  globe.  Of  course,"  she  added, 
with  the  honesty  that  was  a  part  of  the  charm  of 
Christine  Trevor,  "  I'm  glad  he  and  father  have  slath- 
ers of  money.  I  wouldn't  want  to  marry  Cort  for 
money,  but  I'd  die  if  I  were  poor  and  ugly  and  dirty 
and  horrid-looking  the  way  poor  people  always  are. 
But  Gug,  what's  got  into  me  to  talk  like  this  ?  It  isn't 
a  bit  like  me.  You're  to  blame,  Docky,  for  scaring 
me  into  a  purple  fit,  telling  me  father's  ill." 

Neither  spoke  again  until  Dr.  Denton  had  swung  the 


INTRODUCING  CHRISTINE  7 

car  into  the  stone  gateway  surmounted  by  huge  lions 
couchant.  Then,  while  they  were  rolling  up  the  drive 
bordered  by  naked  trees  and  bushes  which  were  mourn- 
fully tossing  in  the  wind,  he  said  gently,  "  Christie, 
I  told  you  I  was  the  bearer  of  unpleasant  news,  but  I 
did  not  tell  you  all.  Your  father  was  beyond  my 
help  when  I  reached  his  office." 

There  was  an  endless  moment  of  silence  before 
the  girl  demanded,  in  a  tone  of  frozen  horror,  "  D  — 
do  you  mean  father's  dead?  He  can't  be.  Why,  I 
saw  him  only  this  morning  as  he  was  driving  away 
in  the  limousine." 

"  I  know,  child,  and  he  probably  looked  the  pic- 
ture of  health,  but  I've  warned  him  repeatedly  that 
his  heart  wasn't  clicking  right,  and  that  he  must 
avoid  every  form  of  excitement,  but  the  financial 
crisis  he  passed  through  this  afternoon  — "  He 
stopped  short  with  a  murmured  exclamation  of  vexa- 
tion at  his  unusual  loquacity,  but  the  girl  had  not 
heard  him. 

"  Poor,  poor  father,"  she  was  whispering  brokenly, 
her  eyes  swimming  in  tears.  "  I  can't  believe  it,"  she 
sobbed,  as  he  helped  her  out  of  the  cab  and  up  the 
stone  steps.  "  It  can't  be  true.  Father  dead !  Have 
you  —  is  he  —  home  ?  " 

Dr.  Denton  nodded. 

Then  she  asked  a  question  which  showed  that  she, 
as  always,  was  the  center  of  her  universe.  "  Will 
he  —  will  it  all  be  over  by  Thursday  ?  We  leave  that 
night,  you  know." 

"  Leave  that  night !  "  he  repeated  in  the  tone  of  a 
man  who  does  not  trust  his  own  ears.  "  You  mean 
that  you  are  not  going  to  postpone  your  trip  to  South 
America?  Christine!"  His  cry  of  amazement 


8       CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

stayed  with  her  to  the  end  of  her  days.  It  was  a  full 
half  minute  before  he  spoke  again  and  in  that  poignant 
silence  she  realized  with  a  sudden  rush  of  perception 
that  she  had  disappointed  him  grievously.  Even  in 
her  tumult  of  sorrow  her  heart  throbbed  with  pain 
at  his  disapproval. 

"  Everything  will  be  over,"  he  was  assuring  her, 
as  the  butler,  eyes  red-rimmed,  opened  the  lace-frosted 
front  door.  "  I  took  the  liberty  of  'phoning  Cort  be- 
fore I  left  your  father's  office,"  he  added,  as  they  en- 
tered the  tapestry-hung  hall.  "  He's  probably  here 
already." 

"  Mr.  Van  Ness  is  in  the  smoking-room  ?  "  she  put 
the  question  to  the  butler  with  a  show  of  carelessness, 
but  her  eyes  glinted  with  an  eager  light. 

"  No,  Miss  Christine,"  Wilson  replied.  "  No,  no 
word  from  Mr.  Van  Ness,"  in  answer  to  a  second 
inquiry. 

The  deadly  pallor  of  her  cheeks  and  the  quivering  of 
her  lips  made  Dr.  Denton  hasten  to  assert  with  a  con- 
fident air,  "  He'll  be  here  any  moment  now.  I  finally 
got  in  touch  with  him  at  the  country  club,  and  talked 
with  him  myself.  You'd  better  go  to  your  room, 
Christie,  and  try  to  rest.  I'll  send  you  word  when 
he  comes.  But  there  are  some  arrangements  I  shall 
wish  to  consult  him  about  first." 

For  a  breath  Christine  did  not  move.  Her  eyes 
were  fixed  with  a  curious  expression  on  the  doctor's 
face.  It  was  as  if  she  were  seeing  him  for  the  first 
time.  Slowly  she  appraised  him  —  the  fine,  luminous 
gray  eyes,  gray  as  the  sea,  the  clear-cut  nose,  the 
mouth  with  the  downward  swing  of  humor,  the  body, 
tall,  straight,  of  a  clean  athleticism  which  ten  years 
of  hardworking  professional  life  had  not  interrupted. 


INTRODUCING  CHRISTINE  9 

Even  the  slender  suppleness  of  the  surgeonly  hands 
did  not  escape  her. 

"  I  ought  to  know  better  than  to  expect  Cort,"  she 
said  in  a  low  tone  as  if  to  herself.  "  He  isn't  you." 
She  suddenly  contracted  her  brows  as  if  from  a  spasm 
of  pain.  "I  —  I  never  thought  of  it  before  but  Cort 
and  I  are  horribly  alike  in  some  ways.  We  both  love 
sunshine  and  laughter  and  hate  tears.  He  won't  come 
to-night."  Wearily  she  trailed  up  the  stairs,  a  lonely, 
disconsolate  little  figure. 


A   CHANGE   OF   FORTUNE 

In  her  bedroom,  exquisite  in  its  fittings  of  burnt 
ivory  and  yellow  hangings,  Christine  stopped  only  long 
enough  to  let  Marie,  her  maid,  divest  her  of  hat,  coat, 
and  furs,  then  moved  into  her  sitting-room  beyond. 
She  threw  herself  into  a  low  chair  before  the  crack- 
ling grate-fire,  and  there  she  huddled  the  long  hours 
through,  dinnerless,  waiting,  hoping,  ears  straining 
for  the  sound  of  a  step  and  a  voice,  sick  with  a  dull 
conviction  that  he  would  not  come. 

When  the  ivory-and-gold  clock  on  the  mantel  tinkled 
eleven  musical  notes,  she  started  up  with  an  agonized 
little  cry,  "  Cort,  Cort,  why  don't  you  come  ?  " 

She  dropped  back  into  her  chair,  and  plunged  her 
face  into  trembling  hands.  She  was  undergoing  for 
the  first  time  in  her  young  life  the  torment  of  waiting, 
waiting,  counting  the  hours  and  the  minutes,  while 
she  ran  the  gamut  of  hope,  despair,  indignation,  sor- 
row that  would  not  yield  to  tears.  Would  the  black 
hours  never  end?  Would  the  morning  and  the  sun- 
light never  come? 

She  sprang  up  to  switch  on  the  lamp  on  the  read- 
ing-table. With  a  quick,  tremulous  breath  of  relief 
she  lingered  in  the  circle  of  warm  gold  light.  It  was 
almost  as  gaily  bright  as  the  sunshine.  No  more 
gray  shadowland  of  fears!  No  more  gloomy 

10 


A  CHANGE  OF  FORTUNE  n 

thoughts!  If  only  the  wind  would  stop  wailing! 
How  her  heart  ached  and  ached!  She  would  never 
see  her  father  again.  He  had  been  a  lavishly  gener- 
ous father.  Countless  acts  of  his  devotion,  at  the 
time  coolly  accepted  as  her  due,  came  back  into  her 
memory  to  reproach  her.  If  only  Cort  had  come 
for  even  a  half -second  — ! 

Determinedly  she  tried  to  swing  her  thoughts  on- 
ward to  the  happiness  in  store  for  her  on  the  cruise 
to  South  America  with  Cort.  Her  mind  would  slip 
from  the  leash  by  which  she  was  seeking  to  hold 
it.  Her  father  was  dead!  Perhaps  if  she  had  not 
been  so  wrapped  up  in  herself  and  the  intoxicating 
pursuit  of  pleasure,  she  would  have  known  he  was 
overworking.  If  he  had  not  been  so  busy — no,  she 
would  be  honest  with  herself,  if  she  had  not  been  so 
self-absorbed  —  he  had  always  met  her  slightest  ef- 
fort at  friendly  interest  more  than  three-quarters  of 
the  way  —  they  might  have  been  pals  like  Agnes 
Archer  and  her  father.  A  sense  of  a  missed  oppor- 
tunity, a  sense  of  loss  and  desolation  overwhelmed 
her.  Then  vague,  half-forgotten  scenes  of  her  child- 
hood began  to  paint  themselves  on  her  mind. 

Soon  she  was  living  over  again  those  happy,  care- 
free days  when  life  for  her  had  centered  in  the  home. 
Suddenly  memory  dragged  up  a  broken  promise.  She 
had  made  it  in  all  good  faith  the  night  before  she 
'had  left  for  boarding-school.  Even  now  through  the 
mist  of  time  and  forgetfulness  she  could  see  the  pic- 
ture. The  firelight  playing  softly  on  her  mother's 
face  which  was  touched  with  a  strange  note  of  mel- 
ancholy —  she  had  not  noticed  it  then  —  and  herself, 
a  girl  of  twelve,  nestling  at  her  mother's  feet. 


12     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  It  may  be  that  I  shall  be  called  away,  my  darling," 
her  mother  had  mused,  as  she  sat  stroking  the  young 
head  of  gold,  "  and  you'll  have  some  of  my  respon- 
sibilities on  your  shoulders.  Promise  me,  Christie," 
even  yet  the  girl  could  see  that  strangely  tense  look 
her  mother  had  bent  upon  her,  "  you'll  be  a  comrade 
to  your  father  and  a  real  big  sister  to  the  little  ones." 

"  Of  course,  mother,"  and  the  promise  had  been 
sealed  with  a  hug  and  a  kiss. 

"  There's  something  else,  Goldilocks,"  her  mother 
had  gone  on  in  a  troubled  way  after  a  moment  of 
silence,  "  that  I've  been  thinking  about,  ever  so  hard, 
these  last  few  days  when  it  came  to  me  perhaps  I'd 
be  —  taken.  It  may  be  left  for  you  to  right  a  wrong 
of  mine.  But,  no,  child,  you're  too  young  to  have 
your  life  shadowed  with  my  burdens.  Perhaps  — " 

Her  father  had  appeared  just  then,  and  her  mother 
at  once  had  broken  out  into  something  bright  and 
merry,  as  was  her  way. 

She  had  not  kept  that  promise.  Now  it  was  too  late. 
She  would  be  off  before  the  end  of  the  week  for  two 
or  three  months  at  least,  and  then  in  the  early  sum- 
mer would  come  her  marriage  to  Cort.  After  that  — 
Her  thoughts  drifted.  What  wrong  had  her  mother 
intended  her  to  right  ?  Would  she  ever  know  ?  Had 
her  father  known?  She  sat  for  a  long  time,  her 
chin  in  her  hands,  staring  straight  at  the  opposite 
wall. 

If  only  she  could  throw  off  this  strange  weight  of 
oppression,  these  torturing  memories!  If  only  she 
had  been  more  of  a  daughter  to  her  father —  Now 
it  was  all  too  late.  Too  late!  The  words  drummed 
themselves  with  maddening  repetition  into  her  con- 


A  CHANGE  OF  FORTUNE  13 

sciousness.  Docky  had  seemed  —  well,  surprised,  that 
she  did  not  intend  to  postpone  her  trip.  But,  merci- 
ful goodness,  that  was  not  to  be  thought  of  even  for 
a  breath. 

The  morning  had  worn  itself  almost  to  a  close  be- 
fore a  maid  brought  Christine,  still  immured  in  her 
room,  the  card  of  Cortland  Van  Ness.  But  the  tender- 
ness with  which  he  welcomed  her  when  she  slipped  into 
the  library  erased  some  of  the  aching  hurt  from  her 
heart.  He  was  so  handsome,  this  black-eyed,  black- 
haired,  Italian-looking  young  man,  clothed  in  the  per- 
fection of  the  tailor's  art,  that  she  fell  in  love  with 
him  all  over  again.  As  she  nestled  close  to  him,  she 
hardly  heard  his  stream  of  excuses.  He  had  had 
every  intention  of  running  up  last  night,  had  in  fact, 
promised  Denton  he'd  cut  his  dinner  engagement  at 
the  club  and  come  on  the  fly,  but  Canfield,  Clarence 
Canfield,  you  know,  in  town  only  for  the  night,  on 
his  way  to  Japan,  had  caught  him  as  he  was  headed 
for  his  car,  and  had  —  yes,  dragged  was  the  word, 
dragged  him  back  into  the  billiard-room,  and  by  the 
Lord  Harry,  before  he  knew  it,  it  was  devilish  late,  and 
then  this  morning  that  fool  of  a  Thompson  had  done 
something  or  other  to  put  his  roadster  on  the  blink 
when  he  ran  it  out  of  the  garage,  and  it  had  taken 
longer  than  he'd  expected  to  get  it  into  shape  again. 
He  hoped  she  wasn't  on  edge  with  him  because  he 
hadn't  come  sooner. 

On  edge  with  him!  How  could  she  be?  She  had 
known  by  an  intuitive  flash  what  kind  of  excuses  he 
would  make.  And  she  had  known,  too,  what  the  real 
reason  was  for  his  non-appearance.  He  had  put  off 
coming  to  her  as  long  as  he  decently  could  because  like. 


14     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

herself  he  dreaded  the  unpleasant  issues  of  life.  Holy 
Doodles !  illness,  sorrow,  tears,  death,  were  bound  to 
come  to  a  fellow  sooner  or  later,  but  why  run  after 
them? 

So  Christine  accepted  Cortland  Van  Ness'  excuses  at 
least  with  outward  sweetness  and  promptly  forgave 
him.  As  well  quarrel  with  him  because  his  eyes  were 
black,  not  brown  or  blue,  as  row  with  him  for  not 
coming  to  her  in  her  first  moments  of  stress.  She 
found  it  comforting  in  her  mental  shipwreck  to  anchor 
quietly,  safely,  in  the  haven  of  his  arms. 

"  Poor  little  Chris !  "  He  stroked  her  pale  cheek. 
"  It's  mighty  hard  on  you,  dear,  having  your  father 
go  off  so  suddenly,  and  especially  at  this  time,  but  it 
mustn't  make  any  difference  in  our  plans." 

She  clung  to  him  with  a  sudden  childlike  terror. 
"  Are  you  perfectly  sure  —  you  —  would  you  still 
want  me,  Cort,  if  father  didn't  leave  much  money?" 

He  kissed  her  with  a  fierceness  that  left  her  breath- 
less. "  I've  always  managed  to  get  what  I  want, 
Chris,  and  you're  what  I'm  set  on  having  deuced  bad 
right  now.  You  sure  bowled  me  clean  over,  little 
girl,  the  instant  I  set  eyes  on  you  last  winter  at  the 
Grayson  dinner-dance.  Oh,  I  know,  I've  the  name 
for  being  fickle."  He  threw  back  his  head,  and 
laughed  his  ringing,  boyish  laugh.  Almost  instantly 
he  checked  himself  and  looked  at  Christine  in  a  shame- 
faced way  as  if  he  expected  a  reproof  for  his  un- 
seemly boisterousness.  "  You've  teased  me  good  and 
plenty,"  he  went  on  in  a  hushed  manner,  "  about  all 
the  cases  I've  had  on  girls,  but  they  were  in  my 
green-and-salad  days  before  I  knew  you.  Small  chance 
of  your  losing  me,  Chris,  if  you  came  to  me  a  beggar 


A  CHANGE  OF  FORTUNE  15 

girl.     But  what  put  the  idea  into  your  head,  little  one  ?  " 

She  shivered  in  spite  of  the  warmth  of  the  room. 
"  Oh,  I  had  nothing  but  ugly  thoughts  and  conscience 
stabs  last  night.  Ugh,  it  was  a  ghastly  nightmare 
of  a  night." 

"  Money'll  be  the  least  of  our  worries."  He  caught 
her  shoulders  and  swung  her  close  to  him.  "  Father's 
got  more  than  enough  to  satisfy  his  only  offspring,  and 
I  rather  fancy  the  old  gentleman  won't  leave  it  all  to 
charity."  He  managed  to  stifle  the  laugh  which  rose 
to  his  lips  at  his  own  wit.  "  But  to  tell  the  truth, 
the  governor's  been  rather  sore  lately  because  I  couldn't 
see  myself  taking  the  run  of  the  flour  mill.  I  tell  him 
'  work's  for  the  working  class.'  I'm  not  especially 
clever,  Chris  — "  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  keep  his 
loud,  young  voice  properly  subdued  to  the  atmosphere 
of  death — "  but  I  sure  did  make  some  wise  choice 
when  I  picked  out  old  Cortland  Van  Ness,  the  first, 
for  a  grandfather.  Old  Cort  was  some  boy  when  it 
came  to  exchanging  a  few  dollars  for  what  looked  like 
a  worthless  strip  of  land  and  father  takes  after  him, 
but  Cortland  third  can't  get  the  idea  of  poking  around 
in  overalls  in  a  dusty-musty  old  mill  when  there  are 
such  things  as  yachts  and  tennis  courts  and  brassies 
in  this  gay  old  world." 

"  It  isn't  such  a  gay  old  world  to-day,"  mused  the 
girl  wistfully.  "  Everything  seems  so  dismal  and 
horrible  I  can  hardly  breathe.  I  do  wish  the  sun 
would  shine." 

'''  You've  been  shut  up  in  this  gloomy  house  too 
long,  dear.  Whew,  I'm  beginning  to  feel  blue,  my- 
self! Come  on  out  for  a  spin,  and  cut  out  worrying. 
Of  course,  I'd  be  the  last  person  on  earth  to  hear 


16     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

it  if  your  father'd  been  shaky  —  keeping  my  coat- 
tails  clean  of  business  and  business  worries  as  I  do  — 
but  I  don't  believe  it.  All  my  life  I've  heard  father 
say  John  Trevor's  safe  as  the  bank  of  England. 
Just  look  at  the  way  he's  managed  the  trust  fund  of 
the  Widows  and  Orphans  of  St.  Mark's.  Father's  on 
the  board  with  him,  you  know,  has  been  for  years,  and 
he  says  your  father  is  —  was,  I  mean  —  a  winner. 
Why,  child,  I'd  as  soon  expect  the  Union  Trust  to 
cave  in  as  your  father." 

An  hour  after  this  she  telephoned  to  Dr.  Denton. 
Her  cheeks  were  glowing  from  the  swift  ride  in  the 
biting  wind,  and  her  eyes  glinted  with  excitement. 

"  Congratulate  me,  Docky,"  she  burst  out,  when  his 
familiar  voice  sounded  in  her  ear.  "  Cort  and  I  are 
going  to  be  married  in  New  York  Saturday  morning 
before  we  sail.  I  wanted  you  to  be  the  first  to 
know." 

There  was  a  second  of  silence,  then,  "  God  bless 
you,  dear  child,  and  make  you  the  happiest  of  girls." 

In  Christine's  memory  the  next  two  days  always 
stood  out  as  a  horrible,  confused,  crowded  dream. 
The  house  was  deathly  quiet.  About  it  hung  an  air  of 
disuse,  despite  the  throng  of  persons  who  came  and 
went  on  one  mission  or  other.  To  her  tortured  fancy 
it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  town  were  pouring  into 
the  Trevor  doors.  Night  or  day,  it  mattered  not,  they 
came,  family  friends,  her  father's  business  associates, 
the  poor  and  the  outcast  to  whom  in  his  quiet  way  he 
had  always  held  out  a  helping  hand.  Christine  learned 
to  know  her  father  in  those  two  days.  Each  one  who 
entered  that  house  —  and  they  came  from  all  parts  of 
the  city  —  helped  her  to  understand  the  integrity,  the 


A  CHANGE  OF  FORTUNE  17 

breadth  of  soul,  the  unselfishness  and  the  love  of  his 
fellow  man  that  had  made  John  Trevor  beloved  of 
all. 

And  all  through  those  sunless  days  of  sorrow  she 
was  tortured  with  an  unceasing  ache  in  her  heart, 
a  wild  craving  to  hear  her  father's  voice  again,  the 
longing  for  an  opportunity,  if  only  for  an  hour,  to 
redeem  her  promise  to  her  mother.  Over  and  over 
the  words  beat  themselves  in  desperate  iteration  into 
her  brain,  "  too  late,  too  late." 

She  awoke  on  Thursday  to  sunshine  and  bright 
blue  skies.  Instantly,  some  of  the  weight  of  sadness 
dropped  away.  As  she  dressed  she  smiled  at  the  girl 
limned  in  the  mirror,  and  once  whispered,  "  bride." 
She  whispered  it  again  as  the  color  came  running  up 
into  her  cheeks. 

She  had  closed  the  door  of  her  bedroom  behind 
her,  and  was  moving  rapidly  down  the  hall,  slim  and 
straight  and  fair  as  a  fresh-cut  lily  in  her  morn- 
ing frock  of  white,  when  she  heard  childish  voices  and 
turned  to  see  the  twins  pelt  down  the  stairs  from  the 
nursery. 

Daphne,  familiarly  known  as  Daffy,  one  of  the  six- 
year-old  twins,  with  the  face  of  a  Raphael  angel  and 
the  spirit  of  an  imp,  led  the  way  as  usual.  "  We  are 
so,  Mr.  Dilly,"  she  was  insisting,  in  a  shrill  whisper. 
"  We're  poorer'n  anything.  I  heard  'Melia  say  so  to 
Marie,  'n'  'Melia  knows  everything." 

Dilly,  abbreviated  from  John  Dillingham  Trevor, 
appeared  unconvinced.  "  It'd  be  bully  fun.  We'd 
have  to  go  'n'  live  in  a  bits  of  a  cottage,  'n'  eat  things 
in  a  tin  pail  like  Jim  when  he  helps  Tom  garden,  'n' 
—  bugs,  'tain't  true.  I  just  know  it  'tain't,  so  there. 


i8      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

You  just  see,  we'll  have  to  stick  in  that  old  nursery 
till  we're  most  dead,  'n'  do  lessons  'n'  lessons  'n' 
lessons.  Hunky,  it'd  be  great  to  go  to  school  like 
poor  kids  'n'  stick  things  in  your  pockets  to  eat  at 
recess  'n' —  Laurie'll  tell  us.  He  knows  a  lot  'n' 
he  never  tries  to  fool  a  fellow." 

Christine  stared  until  the  hurrying  little  figures 
had  vanished  in  a  curve  in  the  winding  staircase.  Her 
eyes  were  black  with  sudden  fear.  Then  she  laughed 
scornfully  at  herself.  "  That's  nothing  but  servants' 
gossip.  There  isn't  a  word  of  truth —  I'll  'phone 
Docky."  Instantly  her  mind  had  turned  to  the  un- 
failing comforter  of  her  childhood  days. 

But  she  did  not  have  to  telephone  to  him.  From 
the  upper  hallway  she  heard  his  voice,  and  leaning 
over  the  marble  balustrade,  she  saw  him  deliver  hat 
and  coat  into' Wilson's  keeping.  She  racketed  down 
the  stairs  to  him.  "  Docky,"  she  met  his  smiling  eyes 
squarely,  as  he  took  her  hands,  "  tell  me  the  truth." 
She  caught  her  breath  quiveringly,  "  Are  we  —  are 
we  going  to  be  —  poor?" 

His  face  changed.  For  a  moment  he  did  not  speak. 
His  eyes  were  upon  her.  She  looked  so  young,  so 
appealing  in  her  wood-nymph  whiteness. 

"  There  are  some  things  I  want  to  make  clear  to 
you."  He  led  her  into  the  library  and  settled  her 
in  the  old  familiar  position  among  the  cushions  of 
the  huge  davenport.  "  That's  what  brought  me  here 
so  early.  Graves  and  your  father's  lawyer  won't  be 
here  with  the  will  for  an  hour  or  two." 

For  full  ten  minutes  he  explained  simply  a  small 
measure  of  what  her  father's  private  secretary  and 
confidential  man,  George  Graves,  had  revealed  to  him. 


A  CHANGE  OF  FORTUNE  19 

But  though  she  listened  with  every  nerve  taut  to  un- 
derstand, it  was  all  a  wild  jumble  of  unfortunate  in- 
vestments, an  unforeceen  and  rather  inexplicable  de- 
pression in  the  stock  market,  an  overconfident  en- 
dorsement and  loss  of  an  overwhelmingly  large 
amount,  and  above  all,  a  thunderclap  of  a  bank  failure. 
What  she  did  manage  to  gather  was  that  it  would  all 
have  to  go,  home,  servants,  automobiles. 

"  Thank  you,  Docky,"  she  said  mechanically,  and 
rose  to  her  feet  at  the  impatient  honking  of  an  auto- 
mobile horn  outside  on  the  driveway.  "  There's  Cort. 
We've  a  thousand  things  to  arrange  before  we're 
off." 

From  the  doorway  she  slipped  back  to  lay  both  hands 
on  his  arm.  "  You've  been  a  perfect  dear.  Some- 
how I  can  bear  it  better,  coming  from  you.  But  it's 
so  terrible  to  be  —  poor."  She  turned  away,  but  the 
next  breath  was  smiling  up  at  him  through  tear-wet 
eyes.  "  I  suppose  this  is  good-bye,  Docky.  There 
won't  be  a  smidge  of  time  later.  I  don't  want  you 
to  remember  me  as  a  fountain  of  woe  that's  forever 
spilling  over.  Please  think  of  me  as  a  happy  bride." 

He  was  very  calm,  but  somewhat  white  about  the 
mouth  as  he  caught  both  her  hands  in  a  warm  vital 
clasp.  "I  shall  always  remember  you  as  my, merry 
little  comrade,  Goldilocks." 

Later  in  the  morning  she  was  flying  down  the  hall 
on  her  way  to  the  library  where  she  hoped  to  find  a 
mislaid  book  she  had  promised  to  bring  for  Cort's 
Aunt  Mary.  A  swift  impulse  halted  her  at  the  closed 
door  of  her  father's  study.  An  overpowering  long- 
ing gripped  her  to  be  once  more  in  the  room  in  which 
she  should  always  image  him.  For  a  moment  she 


v 

20     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

hesitated,  then  gently,  very  gently  turned  the  knob. 
She  stepped  no  farther  than  the  doorway.  There 
in  her  father's  favorite  chaise-longue  lay  Laurie,  the 
boy  with  the  twisted  body  and  the  beautiful  soul.  On 
a  stool  at  his  feet  sat  his  devoted  attendant,  Amelia. 
A  small  frock  she  had  been  embroidering  had  fallen 
to  the  floor.  Tears  were  streaming  down  her  with- 
ered cheeks. 

The  music  came  to  a  soft  close.  The  girl  in  the 
doorway  would  have  crept  away,  but  Amelia's  first 
words  stayed  her,  "  Sellin'  that  violin'll  break  my 
heart,  Master  Laurie.  What'd  your  poor  father 
say?" 

The  boy  did  not  speak  for  an  instant,  then  he  said 
dreamily,  "  I  think  it  would  please  him.  It's  been 
very  beautiful  to  have  three  such  friends,  father,  and 
you,  and  my  violin.  But  soon  there'll  only  be  you, 
'Melia.  Are  you  real  sure  you're  not  going  to  mind 
it  if  we  can't  pay  you  much?  " 

<<;  Never  a  penny  do  I  want,  precious  lamb.  I've 
got  savin's,  thanks  to  your  good  father,  that'll  do  me 
my  lifetime.  Doin'  for  you's  pay  enough.  But 
how'll  you  make  out  without  your  music  box,  I'd  like 
to  know." 

"  I'll  have  more  time  to  do  lessons,  and  play  with 
the  twins,"  he  answered  cheerily,  "  and  spring's  com- 
ing, 'Melia,  and  you  know,  I  don't  play  quite  so  much 
then,  the  birds  and  flowers  are  so  wonderful.  Of 
course,  it's  going  to  be  a  little  lonesome  at  night  with- 
out—  Isn't  it  almost  time  for  Champney  to  come 
for  my  violin?  "  He  laid  his  cheek  caressingly  against 
the  satiny  wood.  "  He  promised  he'd  bring  the  money 
with  him,  didn't  he?  Marie  said  Christine  could 


'  V 

A  CHANGE  OF  FORTUNE  21 

buy  lots  of  pretty  things  with  that  much  when  she's 
in  New  York." 

"  Trust  Christine  to  have  pretty  things  a-plenty," 
muttered  Amelia,  with  a  frankness  born  of  long  years 
of  service  in  the  Trevor  family,  "  and  everything  else 
she  wants." 

"  Marie  says  a  debutante  never  has  enough  duds," 
championed  the  boy  warmly.  "  Besides,  things  wear 
out,  you  know  they  do,  'Melia.  Anyhow,  Christine's 
got  to  have  nice  clothes;  she's  the  most  beautiful  girl 
in  the  world,  I  think.  I  —  I  just  wish  I  had  ten  violins 
to  give  her." 

Christine  caught  her  breath  with  a  choking  little 
sound.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  listen,  but  I  did !  "  She 
faced  the  charge  of  two  pairs  of  astonished  eyes. 
"  You  mustn't,  Laurie,  I  don't  want  it.  I  won't  let 
you,"  she  cried  out  in  hot  protest,  and  closed  the  door 
tempestuously  behind  her. 


CHAPTER  III 

A   MARRIAGE   POSTPONED 

All  thought  of  the  book  for  the  South  American 
jaunt  forgotten,  Christine  fled  to  her  bedroom  and 
flung  herself,  face  down,  on  the  satin-and-lace-covered 
bed.  For  a  few  moments  she  gave  way  to  sharp,  hard, 
body-wrenching  sobs.  But  they  were  not  tears  of 
grief.  It  was  anger  that  flamed  within  her,  anger  and 
burning  resentment.  Was  she  already  an  object  of 
charity?  Did  Laurie  have  to  martyrize  himself  by 
parting  with  his  dearest  possession  for  her  sake?  In 
fancy,  she  could  hear  the  servants  roll  this  delicious 
morsel  of  gossip  under  their  tongues.  The  boy  whom 
she  had  frankly  shunned,  yes,  neglected,  was  sacrificing 
his  heart's  blood  for  the  pleasure  of  his  butterfly  sister. 
Oh,  she  hated  him  for  it,  hated  him,  hated  everybody, 
and  everything  that  stood  for  sacrifice. 

In  a  few  short  hours  now  she  would  be  out  of  it 
all,  the  gloom,  and  stress,  and  unhappiness.  Soon  she 
would  be  her  own  gay  self  with  a  heart  light  as  thistle- 
down. She  would  fairly  steep  herself  in  sunshine, 
laughter  and  love. 

She  flashed  to  her  feet ;  she  had  small  time  for  tears 
or  thinking.  There  were  still  countless  orders  for 
Marie,  a  hundred  uncompleted  odds  and  ends.  But 
her  thoughts  would  not  swing  forward  to  the  blue 
waters  of  the  trip  that  was  to  be  her  honeymoon. 

22 


A  MARRIAGE  POSTPONED  23 

They  would  revolve  only  about  the  tiny  stream  of 
her  home  life  and  the  children.  Where  would  they 
live?  Docky  had  said  everything  —  home,  servants, 
automobiles  —  must  go.  Who  would  care  for  the 
twins?  Laurie  would  be  safeguarded  in  the  loving 
hands  of  Amelia.  But  where  ?  A  pang  shot  through 
her  heart.  Where  would  their  home  be ?  If  only  they 
had  some  wealthy  old  childless  uncle  or  aunt  who 
would  gladly  adopt  them  now  in  their  poverty !  Pov- 
erty! She  ground  her  teeth  at  the  very  word.  Pov- 
erty was  not  for  such  as  she.  She  was  pretty,  young, 
thrillingly  young  and  thrillingly  alive.  Wealth  and 
happiness  were  her  inalienable  right. 

But  they  had  no  fairy  godmother,  uncle  or  aunt 
to  befriend  them.  Her  father  and  her  mother  had 
both  been  only  children,  orphaned  early  in  their  youth. 
No,  there  were  no  relatives  to  whom  they  could  turn. 
Friends?  She  ticked  off  the  long  list  of  family 
friends,  one  after  the  other,  as  a  possible  source  of 
aid.  The  Owen-Hamptons,  her  father's  closest  friends, 
were  trailing  in  their  yacht  somewhere  through  Medi- 
terranean waters.  Included  in  their  party  were  the 
John  Lyles  and  the  Peter  Van  Horns.  A  winter  in  the 
Orient  was  the  present  plan.  She  couldn't  reach  out  to 
them  for  help.  Mrs.  George  Herbert,  her  mother's 
intimate  friend,  and  a  kindly  soul  that  was  always  be- 
friending the  friendless!  But  no,  a  letter  had  come 
from  her  that  very  morning  —  she  had  been  ordered  to 
a  mountain  sanatorium  for  an  indefinite  period  of  rest. 
The  Phil  McEwens  and  the  Harry  Thompsons  had 
wired  they  were  hers  to  command,  but  their  return 
from  California  was  still  indefinite  and  the  Gregorys 
and  Gormans  and  Stanleys  were  still  on  their  Florida 


24     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

plantations.  She  might  appeal  to  Mrs.  Victor  Hobart. 
Sally  and  she  had  danced  their  way  through  life  to- 
gether from  their  first  day  in  kindergarten.  But  Sally 
had  been  thrown  from  her  horse  but  a  fortnight  before, 
and  a  wheel-chair  for  life  now  threatened  her.  The 
Payne-Scrantons,  and  the  Ashbys,  and  the  Archers,  and 
many  others  had  been  lavish  in  their  manifestations  of 
sympathy,  but  one  couldn't  thrust  a  whole  family  on 
any  of  them.  No,  there  was  not  a  friend  to  whom  she 
could  turn  for  help  in  this  teasing  problem.  To  be 
sure,  there  was  Mrs.  Austin,  the  gentlewoman  who  had 
chaperoned  her  during  this,  her  first  season,  as  a  bud. 
But  Christine  dismissed  her  mentally  with  a  prompt 
certainty  —  she  was  a  hireling  whose  services  could  not 
be  counted  on  without  a  generous  compensation. 

As  always,  her  mind  pivoted  swiftly  in  her  moment 
of  need  to  Dr.  Denton.  He  would  know  the  an- 
swer to  her  problem  —  he  always  had  in  her  childhood. 
She  snatched  a  glance  at  her  wrist-watch.  There 
would  be  time  for  a  fifteen  minute  visit  if  she  pelted. 
The  thought  had  hardly  formed  before,  with  the  im- 
pulsive haste  so  natural  to  her,  Christine  had  flung 
herself  into  her  moleskin  motor  coat  and  hidden  her 
bright  hair  under  a  fur  toque. 

Less  than  ten  minutes  later  she  was  whizzing  down 
Jefferson  Avenue  in  her  brown  roadster  with  its  per- 
fection of  appointments.  In  her  dexterous  flight  the 
thought  came  to  stab  her  that  this  was  the  last  time 
she  would  thrill  with  a  sense  of  power  as  her  hands 
guided  the  wheel  of  this  beloved  car.  But  there  was 
immediate  balm  for  the  wound  in  the  thought  that 
as  Cort's  wife,  she  could  have  its  mate. 

The  doctor's  office  hours  were  over  for  the  after- 


A  MARRIAGE  POSTPONED  25 

noon,  the  young  woman  in  attendance  at  the  desk  as- 
sured Christine  pleasantly,  but  the  doctor  was  still  in 
his  private  office,  engaged  on  a  matter  of  business. 

"  Dr.  Denton  will  see  no  more  patients  this  after- 
noon," remarked  the  young  woman  suavely,  as  Chris- 
tine huddled  herself  into  a  leather  chair,  and  began 
impatiently  to  turn  the  leaves  of  a  magazine  which  she 
had  caught  up  from  a  nearby  table.  "  He's  overdue 
now  at  the  Receiving  Hospital." 

"  I  am  not  a  patient,"  Christine  remarked,  in  the 
detached  tone  she  always'  reserved  for  underlings. 
There  was  no  arrogance  in  her  manner,  merely  a 
please-remember-you're-on-earth-to-serve  air.  "  I  shall 
wait  till  the  doctor's  at  liberty." 

Christine  tried  to  interest  herself  in  the  printed 
page,  but  her  chaotic  thoughts  refused  to  be  enmeshed. 
Impatiently  she  cast  the  magazine  on  the  floor,  and 
moved  restlessly  about  the  waiting-room.  She  ob- 
served with  indifference  the  few  really  fine  prints  on 
the  wall,  crossed  to  a  window,  gazed  out  with  un- 
seeing eyes,  then  flung  herself  with  a  hardly  suppressed 
exclamation  of  exasperation  into  a  chair  near  the 
private-office  door.  The  young  office  attendant  had 
disappeared  some  time  before  into  the  doctor's  labora- 
tory, and  Christine  who  had  been  telling  herself  for 
the  past  ten  minutes  that  she  would  wait  no  longer, 
was  divided  in  mind  whether  she  should  recall  the 
young  person  or  leave  a  note  on  Docky's  desk. 

She  had  already  drawn  a  sheet  of  the  doctor's  note- 
paper  out  of  the  desk  drawer  when  the  private-office 
door  opened  and  she  heard  a  voice  that  she  instantly 
recognized  as  the  monotone  of  her  father's  confidential 
man,  though  now  it  was  high-keyed  with  passion.  "  J 


26     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

hope  before  I  die  I'll  set  eyes  on  that  old  curmudgeon," 
George  Graves  was  saying,  "  whoever  he  is.  I  long 
to  assure  him  with  my  own  tongue  he's  the  murderer 
of  John  Trevor,  as  fine  a  man  as  God  ever  set  on 
this  wicked  old  earth.  He's  got  to  stand  and  listen 
while  I  tell  him,  if  it's  the  last  breath  I  draw,  that 
had  he  negotiated  that  loan  there'd  be  dozens,  yes, 
hundreds  of  widows  and  orphans  of  St.  Mark's  that 
wouldn't  be  crying  their  eyes  out  this  day,  and  Mr. 
Trevor'd  be  here  and  alive,  and  that  trust  fund  — " 

The  girl  straightened,  every  nerve  strained,  every 
muscle  taut.  What  of  that  trust  fund,  the  pride  and 
honor  of  her  father? 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Dr.  Denton,"  she  heard  the  ex- 
cited voice  rage  on,  "  it  was  this  that  did  for  him. 
He  could  've  stood  losing  ten  fortunes  of  his  own,  but 
to  stand  by  and  see  that  fund  go  when  that  old  skin- 
flint, God  send  his  soul  to  hell,  needed  only  to  reach 
out  a  helping  hand.  Good  Lord,  John  Trevor  gave 
the  best  of  his  brains  and  thought  to  that  fund  for 
years,  and  next  to  that  crippled  boy  of  his  —  and  you 
and  I  know,  Doctor,  how  he  worshipped  the  lad  — 
that  trust  fund  was  what  he  lived  for." 

"  How  he  worshipped  that  lad !  "  Christine's  mind 
caught  up  and  repeated  the  words  wonderingly.  She 
had  not  known  of  this  comradeship  between  father 
and  son. 

"  And  Laurie's  been  so  interested  in  that  fund,"  the 
doctor  said,  more  to  himself  than  to  his  companion. 
"  It's  been  the  one  big,  vital  interest  in  his  shut-in 
life.  Mr.  Trevor  realized  it  more  every  day,  and 
enjoyed  nothing  better  than  to  talk  over  things  with 


A  MARRIAGE  POSTPONED  27 

the  boy,  and  tell  him  of  the  lads  who  were  to  benefit 
by  the  fund  when  — " 

"  The  little  lad  must  be  kept  from  knowing,"  in- 
terrupted the  other,  sorrowfully.  "  That  poor  chap's 
going  to  have  a  hard  enough  struggle  without  — " 

For  some  reason  the  girl  did  not  hear  the  rest  of 
his  sentence.  Perhaps  because  her  mind  completed 
it  mechanically  for  her,  "  without  losing  faith  in  his 
father." 

So  not  only  fortune  but  also  her  father's  honor  was 
lost.  For  a  long,  long  moment  she  sat,  too  dazed  to 
move  or  even  to  think.  Then  her  confused  brain  be- 
gan to  work  again.  Thoughts  began  to  take  shape 
in  her  mind.  The  name  of  Trevor  dishonored!  She 
had  always  been  extravagantly  proud  of  her  name. 
She  remembered  now  with  painful  distinctness  how 
she  had  half-pitied,  half-scorned,  a  schoolmate  who 
had  been  forced  to  leave  school  precipitately  when  her 
father  had  absconded  with  a  princely  fortune. 

Her  father's  disgrace  would  be  on  every  tongue. 
She  would  never  be  able  to  hold  up  her  head  again, 
or  face  her  friends.  Agnes  and  the  other  girls  had 
spoken  more  truly  than  they  knew  —  she  was  dead- 
lucky  to  have  this  honeymoon  trip  with  Cort  at  this 
unpleasant  time  —  and  when  she  was  back  among 
them  again  she  would  bear  the  magic  name  of  Mrs. 
Cortland  Van  Ness. 

With  a  maddening  persistency  the  words  of  her 
father's  confidential  man  repeated  themselves  in  her 
mind  — "  That  poor  little  chap's  going  to  have  a  hard 
enough  time  without  — 

A  sudden  inexplicable  choking  longing  possessed 


28     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

her  to  keep  Laurie  from  ever  finding  out.  If  only 
his  father  could  always  remain  for  him  his  ideal,  his 
knight.  Immediately  she  began  to  plan  ways  and 
means  to  keep  the  truth  from  him.  The  servants 
must  never — -  She  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  little 
strangled  sound.  There  would  be  no  servants,  and 
in  but  a  few  hours  now  she  would  be  on  her  way. 

A  moment  later  George  Graves  had  bowed  himself 
out  of  the  private  office  and  closed  the  outer  door 
behind  him.  She  was  dimly  grateful  that  he  had  been 
too  engrossed  to  notice  her. 

Christine  rapped  and  tore  open  the  door  almost 
simultaneously.  Dr.  Denton  faced  about  from  his 
desk  at  the  sound  of  her  explosive  entrance. 

"  You !  "  He  rose  and  hurried  to  her,  both  hands 
outstretched.  Vaguely  she  wondered  why  she  had  not 
realized  before  how  Docky's  smile  warmed  one,  and 
how  fascinatingly  it  communicated  itself  from  his 
lips  to  his  eyes. 

"  I  mustn't  take  your  time,  Docky,"  she  began,  but 
unresistingly  let  him  lead  her  to  a  chair,  and  loosen 
her  motor  coat.  "  Your  office  girl  almost  turned  me 
out,  she  said  you  were  late  — "  She  gazed  at  him 
questioningly,  then  at  his  pleasant  assurance  that  he 
always  had  time  for  her,  continued,  "  And  I'm  in 
a  dead  hurry  too." 

But  it  was  all  of  a  minute  before  she  could  bring- 
herself  to  ask  the  question  which  had  sent  her  with 
impulsive  haste  to  him.  Then  she  blurted  it  out, 
"  What's  going  to  become  of  the  children?  Where'H 
they  live?  Who'll  look  after  them?" 

"  One  at  a  time,  Goldilocks."  Smilingly  he  appro- 
priated her  mother's  pet  name  for  her.  Goldilocks  L 


A  MARRIAGE  POSTPONED  29 

How  that  childish  term  of  endearment  brought  it  all 
back,  the  happy,  irresponsible  days  of  her  childhood, 
the  close  companionship  of  her  mother,  her  broken 
promise !  "  Mr.  Graves  just  left  —  by  the  way,  didn't 
you  meet  him  in  the  elevator?"  As  from  afar  off 
his  voice  came. 

"  He  —  we  didn't  speak,"  she  brought  out,  evasively. 
She  couldn't  speak  as  yet  even  to  Docky  of  the  loss 
of  the  trust  fund  and  her  father's  dishonor.  When 
she  was  well  on  the  ocean  she  would  write  and  tell 
him  of  all  she  had  overheard.  But  now,  the  wound 
was  still  too  new,  too  pain-filled  to  uncover  even  to 
his  kindly  gaze. 

Dr.  Denton  threw  himself  back  in  his  revolving 
chair,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head.  "  Mr. 
Graves  and  I  were  just  completing  some  final  arrange- 
ments for  the  comfort  of  the  children,"  he  hastened 
to  assure  her.  "  Friends  of  your  family  have  fairly 
swamped  us  with  their  kind  offers  of  assistance,  but 
we've  decided  for  the  present  to  try  out  a  plan  of  mine. 
You  can  go  off  without  the  shadow  of  a  worry  as  a 
bride  should."  Again  he  smiled  at  her  as  she  sat 
hunched  slimly  in  her  chair,  but  there  came  no  answer- 
ing smile  into  the  gold-irised  brown  eyes.  Instead,  her 
straight  brows  had  met  frowningly  and  her  face  was 
intensely  earnest. 

"  Before  you've  been  out  three  days  the  little  ones 
will  be  pleasantly  settled  in  Merrivale  — " 

"  Not  in  that  tumble-down  old  house  where  father 
used  to  live  as  a  boy,"  Christine  cut  in,  with  open 
4ismay. 

"  It's  a  bit  old-fashioned,  I  admit,"  the  doctor  told 
ber  cheerily,  "  but  it's  mighty  comfortable  with  its  bi^, 


3o      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

sunny  rooms,  and  fine  old  garden.  I've  heard  your 
father  and  mother  say  the  happiest  days  of  their 
lives  were  spent  there.  They  moved  into  more  fash- 
ionable quarters  just  before  you  came  to  them.  And 
Merrivale's  a  pleasant,  healthy  suburb,  even  if  people 
of  fashion  turn  up  their  noses  at  its  unpretentious- 
ness;  besides  it  has  the  advantage  of  being  close  to 
my  home.  I  want  to  keep  my  eyes  on  the  little  Trevor 
flock,  while  you're  gone." 

She  was  silent.  A  tiny  disk  of  color  flamed  bright 
in  either  cheek.  Her  eyes  were  on  the  jeweled  gold- 
mesh  bag  with  which  her  fingers  were  toying,  but 
she  was  in  reality  gazing  inwardly  at  the  well-remem- 
bered but  distasteful  image  of  the  old-fashioned  house 
in  the  unfashionable  suburb,  which  her  father  had 
once  pointed  out  to  her  with  pride  as  his  boyhood's 
home,  on  one  of  their  infrequent  motor  trips  to- 
gether. 

"  Oh,  but  it's  so  ugly  and  —  squatty,"  she  said  un- 
intentionally aloud,  with  a  little  shiver. 

"  The  house  ?  Yes,  but  it'll  have  to  do.  Besides, 
the  children  won't  need  much  room,  with  only  Amelia 
to  mother  them,  and  an  old  protegee  of  mine  who's 
consented  to  run  the  house  — 

"Only  two  servants?"  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his 
in  frank  distress. 

He  scrutinized  the  willful,  charming  face  of  the 
girl  a  long  moment  before  he  rejoined  gravely, 
"  Christine,  if  you  weren't  leaving  so  shortly  and  if 
you  weren't  coming  back  to  a  life  of  fashion,  I'd  take 
time  to  tell  you  that  some  people  —  people  who  are 
the  salt  of  the  earth,  too  —  haven't  even  one  servant. 
I'd  even  be  tempted  to  carry  you  off  some  day  for  a 


IT" 

A  MARRIAGE  POSTPONED  31 

visit  to  some  of  my  patients.  They're  the  noblest  of 
the  noble,  some  of  them,  and  they  serve  your  kind. 
But  there,  forgive  me,  child." 

For  a  moment  after  he  had  finished,  the  silence 
remained  unbroken.  Christine  sat  with  her  chin 
cupped  in  her  hands,  staring  at  vacancy.  All  her 
usual  buoyancy  seemed  struck  out  of  her.  Suddenly 
she  shrugged  her  shoulders  as  if  to  rouse  herself 
to  the  present  reality. 

"I  —  I  overheard  Laurie  planning  to  sell  his  violin 
to  give  me  some  spending  money."  A  quiver  caught 
her  lip  in  spite  of  herself.  Her  eyes  held  the  torture 
of  a  hurt  animal,  but  even  while  she  was  speaking, 
curiously  enough,  the  realization  came  that  her  re- 
sentment towards  the  boy  had  cleared  away.  "Of 
course  I  wouldn't  dream  of  letting  him  —  ugh,"  she 
shuddered,  "  these  last  few  days  have  been  my  idea  of 
a  nightmare." 

The  room  was  singularly  quiet  for  a  moment,  then 
her  words  came  brokenly,  "  I'm  glad,  glad,  glad,  to 
get  away  from  it  all.  Glad,"  she  insisted,  in  a  voice 
shaking  with  defiance,  then  with  an  uncontrollable  lit- 
tle sob, — "  I'm  the  wretchedest  thing  on  earth." 

For  pride's  sake  she  fled  to  the  window.  Her  soft 
lower  lip  was  caught  between  her  teeth.  She  would 
not  let  the  tears  that  stung  her  eyes  overflow.  Pres- 
ently she  turned  and  met  Dr.  Denton's  grave  gaze. 
What  she  read  there  in  the  fine,  luminous  eyes  made  her 
glance  waver  and  fall.  She  knew  she  was  not  meas- 
uring up  to  his  standard  of  womanhood  and  it  hurt 
her  inconceivably.  Restlessly  she  moved  away  from 
the  window  and  sat  down  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
her  hands,  which  had  begun  to  toy  nervously  again 


32     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

with  her  purse.  Followed  a  minute  of  poignant 
silence.  Christine's  fingers  were  still  now.  Her  eyes 
had  grown  dark  with  brooding.  Suddenly  she  flung 
up  her  head  and  the  color  came  sweeping  into  her 
cheeks.  With  the  next  breath  she  was  on  her  feet 
and  had  snatched  up  the  telephone.  Chokily  she  gave 
the  number,  but  her  head  was  lifted  high  and  her 
voice  held  even  and  firm  as  she  insisted  for  the  third 
time,  "  I  mean  it,  Cort.  I'm  not  going,  I  can't  go. 
I'll  marry  you  when  you  get  back." 


CHAPTER  IV 
LISTENERS  NEVER  HEAR  ANY  GOOD  OF  THEMSELVES 

Christine  whirled  about  from  hurling  her  thunder- 
bolt to  face  the  doctor.  She  was  flushed,  exalted, 
thrilling  with  excitement,  but  to  her  amazement  she 
was  not  overwhelmed  with  a  storm  of  applause.  In- 
stead for  a  long  moment  he  studied  her  with  what 
she  told  herself  was  calm,  cool  disapproval. 

"Of  course  you're  going,"  he  announced  at  last, 
with  an  air  of  finality.  "  There  is  absolutely  no  rea- 
son why  you  should  alter  your  plans.  Laurie  and  the 
twins'll  be  in  good  hands  —  I've  already  assured  you 
of  that.  Besides,"  he  added  in  a  gentler  tone,  as  if  to 
soften  the  sting  of  his  words,  "  I'm  afraid  you  won't 
fit  into  the  household,  contracted  as  it  must  be." 

She  moved  uneasily  under  his  steady  gaze.  "  I 
suppose  you're  right,"  she  said  slowly,  as  if  this  were 
a  wholly  new  thought.  "  I  won't  have  the  lambiest 
kind  of  a  time  but  I've  got  to  stick  it  out." 

"  You  must  go,  Christine."  Dr.  Denton's  tone  was 
matter-of-fact  but  his  eyes  were  alight  with  a  curious 
fire.  "  Call  up  Cort  again.  Tell  him  you've  thought 
it  over.  You've  changed  your  mind.  You're  going. 
Think  of  all  it  means  to  you  and  Cort,"  he  urged. 
"This  trip—" 

"  Please,  please,  Docky,"  she  broke  in,  tensely,  "  I 
ache  to  go  but  I  can't.  I've  got  to  stay  here.  Don't 

33 


34     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

say  another  word  about  it.  It's  going  to  be  hard 
enough  when  Cort  gets  here.  Talk  of  something  else, 
please." 

He  yielded  to  the  sweet  pleading  in  her  voice  and 
for  the  next  ten  minutes  exerted  himself  to  catch  her 
interest  with  other  threads  of  life. 

But  she  did  not  hear  him.  She  sat  hunched  in  her 
chair,  her  face  drained  of  color,  her  eyes  dark  with 
dread,  never  moving  from  the  rug  under  her  feet, 
her  brain  a  vortex  of  conflicting  emotions.  "  Listen," 
she  put  up  her  hand.  They  both  heards  steps  plung- 
ing down  the  corridor.  The  next  instant  Cort  burst 
tempestuously  into  the  inner  office. 

"  Made  it  in  eleven  minutes  and  a  half,"  he  panted, 
dropping  his  watch  back  into  his  pocket.  "  Could 
have  whizzed  through  in  a  clean  ten  but  for  a  traffic 
hold-up.  Some  record,  what,  Chris?  'Afternoon, 
Dr.  Denton.  Now,  girl,"  he  possessed  himself  of 
both  ice-cold,  trembling  little  hands  which  he  held  in 
a  tight  grip,  "  what's  this  all  about  ?  Let's  have  it  in 
a  hurry,  dear,"  he  went  on,  with  a  careless  tenderness. 
"  We  haven't  a  minute  to  spare.  They  won't  hold 
the  train  for  us  even  for  father's  private  car.  I  sup- 
pose it's  just  a  case  of  nerves,  what,  Doctor?  Come, 
let's  have  it,  Chris,  tears  and  all,"  he  ended,  with  a 
big  gusty  laugh. 

"  There  isn't  anything  to  tell,  Cort."  She  stood 
up  and  eyed  him  squarely  but  her  lips  were  white  and 
unsteady,  and  her  bosom  heaved  over  her  tumultuous 
emotions.  "  It's  only  that  it  came  over  me  all  at 
once  —  I  can't  go." 

"Can't  go?"  he  repeated,  with  characteristic  im- 
patience. "  Funny  time  to  decide  that.  Why,  it's  less 


LISTENERS  NEVER  HEAR  ANY  GOOD  35 

than  three  hours  before  train  time  and  I've  already 
made  all  sorts  of  arrangements  for — " 

"  Don't,  Cort,"  she  caught  her  breath,  quiveringly. 
"  Don't  make  it  any  harder  than  it  already  is.  Can't 
you  see  it's  taking  all  the  best  of  me  to  make  me 
stay?" 

"  Hang  it,  Chris,"  he  growled,  when  he  had  at- 
tacked her  vainly  from  every  side  with  coaxing, 
threats,  pleading,  caresses,  "  you  talk  like  a  child. 
There's  nothing  to  make  you  stay  if  you  don't  want 
to.  Denton's  told  you  that  over  and  over.  There's 
no  reason  you  should  stay  "  —  he  stopped  long  enough 
in  his  restless  pacing  to  kick  over  a  stool  — "  unless 
you've  changed  your  mind  — "  He  broke  off,  his  face 
ugly  with  a  sudden  suspicion. 

She  turned  on  him  like  a  lovely  flame.  "Of  course 
I  haven't  changed  my  mind,  foolish  boy.  It's  only 
that  something's  keeping  me  —  I  don't  know  myself 
what  it  is."  The  last  words  were  spoken  too  low  for 
Cort  or  the  doctor  to  catch. 

The  bleak  March  afternoon  had  drawn  to  a  close 
and  the  room  was  darkly  gray  when  the  eyes  of 
the  two  men  met  and  acknowledged  their  defeat,  but 
the  girl  facing  them,  tall  with  the  slimness  of  a  boy, 
even  in  her  heavy  motor  coat,  did  not  glow  with  the 
pride  of  a  conqueror.  She  looked  pale,  spent. 

"  I'm  going  now,"  she  murmured  with  twitching 
lips.  "  No,  please,  don't  either  of  you  come  with  me. 
I've  got  to  be  alone.  Cort,  Cort,"  she  remonstrated 
a  moment  later  breathlessly,  freeing  herself  from  the 
triumphant  fury  of  his  embrace,  "  please,  Cort  dear," 
she  whispered,  "  this  must  be  goodbye  —  here  —  now. 
No,  don't  k-kiss  me  again.  I  c-can't  stand  it  n-now." 


36     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

She  held  out  her  hand.     He  crushed  it  fiercely  against 
his  lips. 

"Good-bye,  Docky.  No,  it's  au  revoir,  isn't  it?" 
Before  the  doctor,  who  had  considerately  turned  his 
back  and  was  gazing  contemplatively  out  of  the  win- 
dow at  the  street  below,  could  reply  she  had  flashed 
about  and  was  gone. 

Christine's  high  resolution  endured  until  Marie  came 
for  final  orders  to  her  sitting-room,  where  she  sat, 
still  in  motor  coat  and  hat.  The  trunks  were  all 
locked,  and  the  traveling-bag  was  ready  to  close. 
Madame  Clothilde  had  sent  home  the  traveling  out- 
fit a  half -hour  ago  and  she  positively  had  turned  out 
a  creation  that  would  make  Miss  Christine  the  envy  of 
all  South  America.  Would  Miss  Christine  choose  to 
gaze  at  that  sweet  chiffon  — ? 

"  Take  everything  out  of  the  trunks,  Marie,"  Chris- 
tine cut  short  her  volubility,  in  a  tone  of  infinite  weari- 
ness. "  I  am  not  going  to  South  America." 

The  girl  stood  like  a  figure  of  wax.  Her  hands 
extended  for  her  mistress'  coat  were  still  outstretched. 
Her  mouth  hung  open.  Curiosity  and  surprise  had 
widened  her  eyes. 

"  And  after  to-night  I'll  not  need  you,  Marie.  Of 
course  I  shall  give  you  good  recommendations." 

Marie  gave  a  shrug  that  spoke  volumes.  "  I've 
already  as  good  as  got  another  position,"  she  rejoined, 
with  a  saucy  toss  of  the  head.  "  Miss  Archer's  been 
after  me  for  months,  and  they  do  say  as  how  she's 
not  pernickety,  and  she  hasn't  half  the  hair  you've 
got,  and  she's  awful  generous  with  her  tips,  and  of 
course  now,  Miss  Christine,  you  couldn't  — " 

Christine  interrupted  with  an  imperious  gesture  of 


LISTENERS  NEVER  HEAR  ANY  GOOD  37 

dismissal,  and  the  girl  slipped  jauntily  from  the  room. 

So  this  was  what  she  could  expect  from  now  on. 
Burning  with  resentment  Christine  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands.  What  a  goose  she  had  been  10  throw 
away  her  shining  opportunity,  and  expose  herself  to 
such  insults!  Docky  and  Cort  had  pleaded  with  her, 
yes,  commanded  her  to  go.  Why  should  she  care 
about  a  broken  promise  —  she  had  made  it  when  she 
was  a  mere  babe  —  or  a  look  of  disappointment  in  a 
pair  of  gray  eyes? 

The  room  was  dark  when  a  lightning-flash  of  deci- 
sion brought  her  to  her  feet.  She  snapped  on  her 
desk-lamp.  The  tiny  jeweled  watch  on  her  wrist  told 
her  that  Cort  and  the  others  of  his  party  were  al- 
ready whirling  gaily  eastward.  She  would  go  after 
all.  She  would  telegraph.  She  could  catch  the  mid- 
night express  and  reach  New  York  in  time  to  sail. 
She  caught  up  her  desk-telephone.  How  should  she 
word  the  message?  She  had  already  given  the  num- 
ber when  George  Graves'  words  came  unbidden  into 
her  mind,  "  that  poor  chap's  going  to  have  a  hard 
enough  time  without  — " 

Mechanically  she  hooked  up  the  receiver,  and 
dropped  in  a  disconsolate  little  heap  on  the  window- 
seat.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Christine  faced 
herself  with  a  grim  honesty.  Well  she  knew  that  all 
her  young  days  her  feet  had  danced  gaily  down  the 
primrose  path  of  pleasure.  Now  she  had  chosen  to 
set  them  in  duty's  narrow,  difficult  track,  and  there 
they  must  stay,  however  halting  the  progress  might 
be,  at  least  until  the  South  American  cruise  was  over 
and  Cort  came  to  claim  her  for  his  own.  Her  ideas 
of  the  meaning  of  duty  were,  to  say  the  least,  rather 


38      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

sketchy,  but,  of  course,  it  would  involve  nothing  but 
disagreeable  things,  of  that  she  was  firmly  convinced. 
Well,  she  would  have  to  untie  her  tangled  knot  some- 
how, but  one  point  was  strangely  clear  in  all  the  men- 
tal chaos  —  the  thing  that  had  been  the  burden  of 
her  answer  to  Cort's  pleading  —  a  power  stronger 
than  her  love  of  pleasure  was  anchoring  her  fast  at 
home. 

But  though  she  had  decided  that  she  must  sacrifice 
her  happiness  for  the  present  to  the  welfare  of  the 
family,  she  made  no  effort  to  interest  herself  in  its 
problems.  During  the  stressful  days  of  breaking  up 
the  home,  she  secluded  herself  in  her  rooms,  there 
to  pour  out  her  heart  in  long  letters  to  Cortland  Van 
Ness.  Steadfastly  she  refused  to  see  any  of  the 
Trevor  family  friends  or  the  girls  of  her  "  set."  She 
told  herself,  with  a  bitterness  strange  to  her  light- 
hearted,  laughter-loving  nature,  that  she  would  have 
none  of  their  pity  or  condescending  kindness.  She 
even  shrank  from  exchanging  an  unnecessary  word 
with  a  servant.  Her  greatest  fear  was  that  some  one 
would  touch,  it  did  not  matter  how  lightly,  the  ach- 
ing wound  of  the  failure  of  the  trust  fund  and  her 
father's  shameful  disgrace,  as  she  put  it  mentally. 

Once  or  twice  after  midnight  she  ran  her  car  out 
to  Merrivale,  and,  unobserved  in  the  darkness,  sur- 
veyed the  house  that  was  again  to  be  the  Trevor  home. 
It  was  worse  than  her  imagination  had  pictured  it,  she 
thought  with  a  lump  in  her  throat.  Low,  rambling, 
squatty-small,  irregular,  hardly  fit  for  servants'  quar- 
ters! Why,  a  tall  person  like  Docky  would  have  to 
duck  his  head  when  he  entered,  the  ceilings  must  be 
so  low  and  tumble-down. 


LISTENERS  NEVER  HEAR  ANY  GOOD  39 

She  consoled  herself  with  the  thought  that  she  would 
have  to  live  there  only  two  months  —  Cort  had  vowed 
he  would  cut  the  trip  as  short  as  his  father  would 
allow  —  and  sixty  days  couldn't  stretch  themselves 
into  a  lifetime.  If  only  she  could  keep  her  motor 
car!  The  days  wouldn't  seem  so  drearily  endless  if 
she  could  whirl  through  the  country  roads.  But  that 
was  out  of  the  question,  she  reminded  herself  with  a 
wry  little  smile. 

Her  heart  was  heavy  and  her  spirits  had  dropped  to 
the  lowest  ebb  when  she  raced  through  a  driving,  gusty 
rain  one  late-April  afternoon  to  the  old  house  in  Merri- 
vale.  It  would  be  the  last  drive  in  her  favorite  car. 
She  had  purposely  delayed  her  coming  as  long  as  she 
could,  and  so,  when  Amelia  threw  open  the  front  door 
to  her,  she  had  a  glimpse  of  a  living-room  beyond 
the  entrance  hall,  aglow  with  softly  shaded  lights, 
with  Laurie  and  the  twins  already  gathered  before  a 
leaping  fire  in  a  huge  open  fireplace. 

"  You  must  be  damp-cold,  Christine.  Do  come  in 
and  warm  up  a  bit  with  the  children,"  invited  Amelia, 
with  the  friendly,  privileged  air  of  an  old  family  serv- 
ing-woman. 

But  the  girl  with  a  murmur  of  refusal  pushed  past 
her  and  began  to  climb  the  broad,  winding  stairs. 
Half  way  up  she  turned  her  head  to  ask,  "  Which 
room's  mine,  'Melia?" 

"  First  room  to  the  right,"  the  woman  answered 
civilly,  but  under  her  breath  she  murmured,  "  and 
of  course  the  best  in  the  house." 

"  Send  a  tray  to  my  room,  just  tea  and  jam  and 
muffins'll  do.  I've  a  headache,  and  shan't  come  down 
to  dinner  to-night." 


40     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Amelia  peered  up  at  the  girl  on  the  staircase  as  if 
distrustful  of  her  hearing.  "  You  haven't  forgot  so 
soon,  have  you,  Christine,  you  haven't  eight  servants 
any  more?"  she  inquired,  quietly.  "I'll  fix  you  a 
tray  myself  to-night,  but  after  this,  if  you  want  extra 
service,  I'm  fearin'  '  —  with  a  gentle  firmness  — 
"you'll  have  to  be  waitin'  on  yourself." 

Christine  made  no  answer.  Hard  experience  had 
taught  her  the  folly  of  trying  to  change  a  fiat  of 
Amelia's.  Disconsolately  she  mounted  the  rest  of  the 
stairs  and  hurried  to  her  room.  In  the  doorway  she 
stood  still,  then  rubbed  her  eyes  like  a  bewildered  child. 
It  was  a  long,  low  room,  of  an  enchantingly  irregular 
shape,  that  she  surveyed,  and  so  completely  fitted  out 
with  the  more  simple  furnishings  of  her  bedroom  in 
town  that  it  seemed  to  offer  her  a  welcome  like  the 
vital  handclasp  of  an  old  friend.  A  fire  burning 
briskly  in  the  old-fashioned  black-and-white  marble 
grate,  a  soft-shaded  lamp  on  the  bedside  table  which 
cast  a  pleasant  yellow  glow  on  an  inviting  array  of 
books  and  magazines,  and  a  bouquet  of  her  favorite 
sunset  roses  on  the  writing-desk  in  the  bow-windows, 
all  gave  the  room  the  touch  of  home.  To  her  dismay 
tears  sprang  into  her  eyes.  Angrily  she  dashed  them 
away. 

It  was  enough  to  have  the  rivers  of  heaven  pour 
down  outside,  she  scolded  herself  furiously,  without 
making  things  damp  inside.  Just  hear  that  rain  on 
the  roof!  It  was  darling  of  Cort  —  she  snatched  up 
a  large,  ivory-framed  picture  of  that  young  man  in 
tennis  flannels  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips  —  to  send 
her  Lares  and  Penates  to  this  dismal  hole.  And  the 
dear  flowers,  —  she  buried  her  nose  in  the  fragrant 


LISTENERS  NEVER  HEAR  ANY  GOOD   41 

mass  of  yellow  bloom.  However  had  he  managed  it? 
He  had  probably  telegraphed  to  the  "  Rosebud  Shop," 
from  New  York. 

The  rain  was  still  descending  in  torrents  over  her 
head  when  she  settled  herself  at  her  pretty  little  writ- 
ing-desk to  describe  the  events  of  the  unhappy  day  to 
Cort.  "  Rain-on-the-roof  Cottage "  she  headed  the 
letter,  and  for  her  always  that  was  the  name  of  her 
Merrivale  home.  But  the  rainstorm  had  passed  when 
she  slipped  into  bed  and  it  was  to  a  pitter-patter,  pit- 
ter-patter, like  the  refrain  of  a  lullaby,  that  she  dropped 
off  to  sleep. 

She  awoke  to  a  beautiful  spring  morning  of  fleckless 
blue  skies  and  sparkling  sunshine.  Her  spirits  in- 
stantly soared  like  a  lark  on  the  wing  as  she  pattered 
to  the  window  to  draw  deep  breaths  of  air,  gloriously 
tonic  and  of  a  balmy  warmth. 

What  an  ugly  dungeon-like  old  gray  building  housed 
their  next  door  neighbor!  Involuntarily  she  shud- 
dered. It  had  such  a  gloomy  aspect,  even  in  the  sun- 
light, with  its  setting  of  towering  black  pines  —  the 
"  House  of  Usher  "  instantly  slipped  into  her  mind. 
She  closed  her  eyes  —  it  was  not  like  Christine  to 
let  them  dwell  on  unpleasant  sights  —  and  when  she 
opened  them,  she  strained  them  towards  the  west. 
Yes,  there,  off  against  the  sky-line,  were  the  outlines 
of  a  patch  of  woods.  She  smiled  at  her  image  in 
the  mirror  as  she  deftly  coiled  the  rippling  masses 
of  red-gold  hair  low  on  her  shapely  young  head. 
After  breakfast  she  would  go  for  a  ramble  with  her 
sketch-book.  This  was  one  thing  she  could  enjoy 
in  this  desert  of  a  place  —  sketching  and  the  woods. 

She  dressed  with  unusual  dispatch,  all  eagerness  not 


42      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

to  waste  a  minute  of  the  brilliant  sunshine  and  the 
enchanting  outdoor  world.  She  was  pinning  on  a 
floppy-brimmed  hat  while  she  raced  down  the  stairs 
and  into  the  dining-room.  If  she  had  not  been  so 
bent  on  not  spending  a  moment  longer  indoors  than 
was  absolutely  necessary  she  would  have  stopped  to 
admire  the  quaint  mahogany-paneled  room,  with  its 
priceless  mahogany  furniture,  its  Dutch-blue  walls  and 
hangings,  and,  above  all,  the  magnificent  view  of  the 
surrounding  country  that  each  window  framed.  As 
it  was,  she  was  thankful  the  room  was  empty.  She 
had  been  dreading  her  first  breakfast  with  Laurie 
and  the  twins.  She  lingered  only  long  enough  to  swal- 
low a  glass  of  milk  and  nibble  a  cracker,  then  pelted 
out  of  the  front  door. 

Half  way  down  the  walk  she  stopped  to  look  back. 
In  the  broad  daylight  there  was,  she  admitted  grudg- 
ingly, an  air  of  home,  a  note  of  charm  and  indi- 
viduality about  "  Rain-on-the-Roof "  with  its  wide 
hospitable-looking  verandas,  its  warm  red-brown  ex- 
terior, and  the  sweep  of  grounds  adorned  with  giant 
trees.  Christine  loved  trees.  So  now  she  let  her 
eyes  dwell  with  appreciation  especially  on  the  lovely 
shaped  elm  trees,  clustered  about  the  east  veranda,  with 
their  cloudy  boughs  lifted  to  an  unbroken  sky. 

"  Spring's  surely  here,"  she  thrilled  with  delight, 
when  at  the  far  end  of  the  grounds  she  came  upon 
a  sheet  of  spring  beauties  which  were  dancing  in  the 
wind,  as  if  sharing  her  gladness  to  be  again  in  the 
sun  and  air.  "I'm — ,"  she  interrupted  herself  to 
peep  through  the  hedge  which  encompassed  the  Trevor 
grounds. 

"  Sounds  like  Daffy's  voice.     If  it  isn't  the  twins! 


LISTENERS  NEVER  HEAR  ANY  GOOD  43 

Annie  shouldn't  let  them  —  She  broke  off  with  an 
impatient  shrug  of  her  shoulders.  When  would  she 
remember  there  were  no  more  Annies  nor  Maries  nor 
Wilsons  in  the  Trevor  household?  Before  starting  on 
her  ramble  she  must  scold  the  twins  roundly  for  leav- 
ing the  grounds  —  those  babes  must  remember,  if  they 
did  live  in  Dumpville,  that  they  were  still  Trevors  and 
must  uphold  the  dignity  of  their  name. 

"  You  just  give  me  all  my  vi'lets,  Dilly  Trevor." 
Daffy's  voice  was  raised  in  hot  dispute.  "  Christine 
shan't  have  one  of  'em.  I  shan't  'vide  with  you," — 
with  an  angry  stamp  of  her  tiny  foot.  "  I  don't  like 
her  one  wittle  bit,  'n'  she  shan't  have  any  of  my 
flowers." 

"  All  right  for  you,  Daffy,  you  can't  never  borry 
my  knife  any  more,  'n'  when  Laurie  and  I  have  our 
show  in  the  barn  you  can't  come,  'n'  'sides  you  know 
what  you  promised  brother." 

There  was  a  moment  of  telling  silence,  then  the 
weaker  vessel  yielded  sweetly.  "  You  can  have  'em, 
Dilly,  on'y  let's  take  'em  to  Laurie,  he  makes  such 
bee-you-ti-ful  bunches.  You  must  let  me  put  'em  in 
her  room." 

"  I  wish  she'd  hurry  up  'n'  be  our  big  sister  like 
Laurie  says,"  said  Dilly  in  a  discouraged  tone,  but 
the  next  minute  he  brightened.  "  P'raps  she'll  be  lots 
nicer  'cause  Laurie  had  all  her  things  put  in  her  bed- 
room 'n'  those  bully  flowers  too." 

"  Huh,"  grunted  the  small  maiden  scornfully, 
"  'Melia  doesn't  b'lieve  she'll  ever  be  a  real  big  sister, 
'n'  Marie  said  she  never  saw  in  all  her  borned  days 
a  selfisher  pig  'n'  Christine  Trevor." 

Even  in  her  anger  a  faint  smile  touched  the  listen- 


44     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

er's  lips  at  the  exact  imitation  of  the  French  maid'  . 
voice  and  manner. 

"  'N'  Marie  said  she  pities  us  children,"  the  childish 
voice  went  on,  plaintively.  "  We'll  always  be  in  her 
way.  Oh,  let's  hurry,  Dilly,  and  put  just  lots  and 
lots  of  flowers  in  her  room  every  day,  so  they'll  change 
her  into  a  big  sister  right  away." 

Christine  did  not  stir  until  the  small  figures  had 
turned  into  an  opening  in  the  shrubbery  that  gave 
upon  a  path  leading  to  the  barn.  All  the  blitheness 
had  been  struck  from  her  face.  So  she  was  the  most 
selfish  pig  of  a  girl  that  Marie  had  ever  known,  and 
the  children  were  to  be  commiserated  because  they 
had  to  live  under  the  same  roof  with  her!  Selfish 
indeed!  Had  she  not  sacrificed  her  very  honeymoon 
trip  for  these  ungrateful  children?  So  it  was  Laurie 
who  had  thoughtfully  transferred  her  bedroom  furnish- 
ings, and  again  it  was  Laurie,  not  Cort,  who  had  re- 
membered to  welcome  her  to  the  new  home  with  a 
nosegay  of  flowers.  Slowly  she  let  fall  to  the  ground 
the  last  shred  of  the  dainty  lace-and-cambric  handker- 
chief which  she  had  been  twisting  in  her  fingers.  A 
week  before,  if  anger  or  emotion  had  got  the  better 
of  her,  she  would  have  driven  her  motor  car  long  and 
hard  and  fast.  Now  suddenly  she  began  to  run  as 
fast  as  she  could  towards  the  patch  of  woods. 


CHAPTER  V 

LAME   DOGS   AND    FREDDY   BLUE 

Head  down,  Christine  had  sped  around  a  corner 
and  was  pelting  diagonally  across  the  street  when  the 
warning  blast  of  an  automobile  horn  thrust  her  back 
to  the  curb.  She  glanced  over  her  shoulder  and 
promptly  returned  the  hand-greeting  of  the  driver.  It 
was  Dr.  Denton.  To  her  surprise  he  slackened  speed 
halfway  down  the  block,  circled  about  and  slanted 
to  the  curb  where  she  was  still  standing. 

"How's  the  girl?"  His  usually  grave  eyes  were 
smiling  boyishly  into  hers  as  he  leaned  out  the  cab 
window.  Before  she  could  answer,  he  went  on  rap- 
idly, "  Curious,  I  was  thinking  of  you  this  very  mo- 
ment and  had  just  decided  to  steal  a  minute  and  drop 
in  at  your  house.  I've  some  work  for  you.  Two 
blocks  down  this  street " —  a  gloved  hand  pointed  to- 
ward her  left  — "  and  then  around  the  corner  is  a  girl, 
Fredericks  Blue,  who  needs  you." 

"Needs  me!"  she  arched  her  eyebrows  incredu- 
lously, then  shook  her  head.  "  It  can't  be  done,  Docky, 
I'm  in  bad  all  around  this  morning.  I  need  myself. 
I'm  on  my  way  to  the  woods."  Significantly  she 
tapped  her  sketch-book. 

"  I  counted  on  you,"  he  said  very  quietly,  and  his 
car  slipped  off  down  the  street. 

Her  eyes  followed  until  he  had  swerved  around 

45 


46      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

the  corner  and  was  lost  to  her  view.  With  a  toss 
of  her  head  she  swung  off  towards  the  woods.  Docky 
had  been  abrupt  in  his  departure,  to  say  the  least.  But 
then,  undoubtedly  he  was  on  his  way  to  a  hurry-up 
call  from  one  of  his  beloved  poor.  Involuntarily  she 
wrinkled  her  pretty  nose  in  disdain.  Why  would  he 
persist  in  wasting  his  wonderful  talents  among  the 
poor?  Her  family  had  been  the  only  one  of  impor- 
tance, that  is  to  say  of  wealth,  that  had  managed  to 
obtain  the  professional  attention  of  this  young  physi- 
cian, who  had  already  gained  distinction  by  his  skil- 
ful corrective  surgery  among  the  poor,  but  that  had 
been  due  merely  to  his  interest  in  the  crippled  boy. 
Yet  everybody  knew  he  could  be  a  great  bang-up  doc- 
tor with  a  raft  of  money  if  he'd  only  let  himself  be 
taken  up  by  the  fashionable  set.  But  Docky  was  so 
provokingly  strange,  he  actually  seemed  to  prefer  to 
work  among  the  dirty,  uninteresting,  diseased  poor, 
when  a  world-wide  reputation  and  riches  were  within 
his  grasp. 

Who  was  this  girl,  anyhow,  this  Fredericka  Blue, 
who  needed  her?  Of  course,  some  poor  cripple  — 
Docky  wouldn't  be  interested  in  anyone  else.  A  shud- 
der ran  through  her  at  the  very  thought.  She  wouldn't 
go.  She  was  glad  she  had  made  that  clear  to  Docky. 
He  knew  perfectly  we'll  the  very  sight  of  deformity 
made  her  ill. 

When  she  gained  the  sunshine-warmed  patch  of 
woods,  all  about  her  was  a  tracery  of  delicate,  misty 
spring  colors.  The  soft  maples  along  the  edge  of 
the  little  stream  that  meandered  through  the  heart  of 
the  woods  were  aglow  in  a  red  mist,  the  willows  were 
of  an  immaterial  greenness,  and  here  and  there  the 


LAME  DOGS  AND  FREDDY  BLUE       47 

ground   was   beginnng   to   show   the   blue   of   violets. 

But  Christine  was  too  busy  with  unpleasant  thoughts 
to  enjoy  the  ever-new  miracle  of  returning  spring. 
She  was  in  a  fine  predicament,  imprisoned  for  two 
months  with  a  family  not  only  incapable  of  appre- 
ciating her  high  sacrifice,  but  even  pitying  themselves 
for  having  to  live  under  the  same  roof.  Well,  if 
they  thought  her  an  ogress,  a  selfish  pig,  she'd  live 
up  to  her  reputation.  She  drew  up  her  shoulders  ex- 
pressively. Give  a  dog  a  bad  name,  you  know. 

A  little  winding  path  had  been  luring  her  onward, 
and  before  she  realized  it  the  silence  and  beauty  of 
the  woods  had  quickened  her  blood  and  made  her  heart 
leap  up.  The  heavy  weight  of  torturing  thoughts  fell 
from  her,  and  she  exhaled  in  a  sudden  abandon  of  re- 
lief. Now  and  then  she  stopped  to  gaze  up  into  a  tree 
which  was  a  delicate  green  cloud  of  budding  leaves  or 
to  fill  her  young  lungs  exultantly  with  the  sun-warmed 
air.  It  was  all  so  exquisitely  still,  so  ineffably  lovely 
and  mysterious,  that  she  wanted  to  dance,  not  walk, 
from  sheer  delight,  and  for  a  moment  or  two  she  did 
fall  into  a  little  rhythmic  step  as  light  and  lovely  and 
young  as  the  spring  day  itself. 

Of  a  sudden  she  decided  to  sit  on  a  fallen  tree- 
trunk  and  sketch  the  alluring  vista  of  a  tree-encircled 
pool  opening  up  before  her.  She  would  enclose  it 
in  her  today's  letter  to  Cort. 

Tossing  aside  her  hat,  she  bent  her  head  with  its 
sweep  of  smooth,  gleaming  gold  hair  to  the  task. 

For  all  of  ten  minutes  her  pencil  moved  across  the 
paper  with  quick,  deft  strokes,  then  stopped  abruptly. 
Discontentedly  she  studied  her  effort,  erased  a  line 
here,  there,  fell  to  work  again,  again  halted,  and 


48      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

tore  the  sheet  into  tiny  bits  which  she  gave  to  the 
wind  to  scatter. 

Again  her  pencil  touched  the  paper.  This  time  it 
was  no  woodland  scene  that  grew  magically  under 
her  fingers  but  two  figures,  one,  that  of  a  man  bend- 
ing over  an  open  case  of  instruments  on  a  table,  the 
other,  of  a  girl  in  a  wheelchair  watching,  waiting, 
bravely  trying  to  hide  in  her  twisted  smile,  suffering 
and  loneliness. 

The  sketch  wanted  but  the  finishing  strokes  when 
Christine's  pencil  paused.  A  breath  later  she  leaped 
impulsively  to  her  feet,  thrust  sketch  and  drawing 
paraphernalia  into  the  leather  case,  and  pinning  on 
her  hat  began  hurriedly  to  retrace  her  steps  through 
the  woods.  She  didn't  want  to  think  of  cripples, 
much  less  draw  them. 

She  would  find  something  of  interest  on  the  street 
to  draw  for  Cort.  She  would  begin  her  letter  the 
instant  she  was  in  her  room.  Why  would  the  thought 
of  that  bothersome  girl  who  needed  her,  oppress  her? 

It  was  a  morning  of  sunlight  and  pulsating  life 
with  acres  of  shining  blue  overhead,  a  morning  for  joy 
and  light-hearted,  irresponsible  happiness.  She  didn't 
know  or  want  to  know  Fredericka  Blue.  What  right 
had  she  to  obsess  her?  When  she  came  to  the  corner 
of  her  street  she  wouldn't  even  move  her  head  a  frac- 
tion of  an  inch  towards  the  left  where  Docky  had  mo- 
tioned —  two  blocks  down  and  just  around  the  corner. 

But  she  did.  For  as  she  sped  on,  her  feet  hardly 
touching  the  ground  —  Christine  always  moved  with 
light,  swift  grace  —  it  was  as  if  some  impulse  stronger 
than  herself  made  her  slacken  her  pace  at  the  street 
corner.  One  moment,  two  moments,  she  hesitated, 


LAME  DOGS  AND  FREDDY  BLUE       49 

then  with  a  whimsical  little  smile  swung  deliberately 
past  her  corner,  down  the  street,  and  two  squares  to 
the  left. 

Even  before  she  rounded  the  corner,  she  spied  it, 
the  little  white  cottage  with  green  blinds  and  red  roof 
set  far  back  among  murmuring  pine  trees  and  com- 
pletely separated  from  either  neighbor  by  an  old-fash- 
ioned, green  picket-fence.  Christine  drew  a  quick 
breath  of  delight.  It  was  like  an  illustration  in  a 
story  book.  She  had  no  intention  of  entering.  She 
would  merely  stroll  leisurely  by,  or  better  still,  she 
would  sketch  it  for  Cort.  She  would  flop  down  un- 
der a  nearby  tree  and  — 

"  I'm  catched,"  observed  a  little  girl,  who  was 
vainly  struggling  to  free  her  short  skirt  from  the  rapa- 
cious grasp  of  the  picturesque  green  gate. 

Involuntarily  Christine  stopped  to  stare.  A  pair  of 
solemn  black  eyes  set  in  a  tiny  elfin  face  stared  back 
unsmilingly. 

"  Freddy  says  you're  bound  to  be  catched  when  you 
don't  do  what's  right,"  continued  the  small  person 
calmly,  not  ceasing  her  efforts  to  set  herself  free. 

"  That's  been  my  experience,  too,"  laughed  Chris- 
tine., as  with  an  unusual  friendly  impulse  she  moved 
closer  to  the  young  prisoner.  "  There  you  are."  She 
raised  the  hasp  of  the  lock  and  swung  open  the  gate. 
"  Fate's  bound  to  punish  you  if  you  don't  behave." 

"  'Tain't  fate  —  it's  Freddy  that  punisnes  us  Blue 
kiddies,"  confided  the  child,  skipping  a  step  or  two  in 
the  joy  of  freedom.  Then  she  craned  her  neck  to 
look  over  her  shoulder.  "  Skirt's  tored.  Um,  well, 
I  s'pose  I'd  better  take  it  now, —  waiting  don't  help  a 
mite."  This  last  remark  she  made  as  if  to  herself  with 


50     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

a  philosophical  air,   and  marched   back  to  the  gate. 

Christine  chuckled  at  the  tone  of  resignation. 
"  What  have  you  been  up  to  ?  "  she  demanded,  curi- 
ously. 

"  Put  on  my  best  Sunday-school  dress  to  play  in," 
was  the  prompt  response,  but  the  gravity  of  her  man- 
ner showed  she  was  impressed  by  the  enormity  and 
unusualness  of  the  offense. 

"  And  just  what'll  Freddy  do  to  you  ?  "  queried 
Christine,  surprised  at  herself  for  lingering  to  chat 
with  a  strange  child,  and  yet,  somehow,  drawn  un- 
deniably to  the  quaint  little  creature. 

"  Freddy  always  lets  us  say  what  our  punishment's 
going  to  be,  and  sometimes  thinking  about  it  is  lots 
harder  than  taking  it.  Freddy  says  the  punishment's 
got  to  fit  the  crime,  and  I  thought  and  thought  what 
it'd  be  all  the  time  I  was  shut  up  by  the  gate,  and  now 
I  know," —  with  a  triumphant  shake  of  her  small 
head. 

"Yes?"  Christine  smiled.  The  engagingness  of 
that  smile  encouraged  the  small  person  to  slip  her 
hand  into  her  companion's  with  a  perfect  trust  that 
would  have  won  a  stonier  heart  than  Christine's. 

"  Please  come  along  in  while  I  tell  Freddy.  'T  ain't 
going  to  be  so  bad  on  me  —  it's  only  I'll  have  to  stay 
in  bed  all  day  long  in  my  ugliest  ugly  flannel  nightie, 
when  I  did  want  to  play  with  Kitty  Brown  and  p'etend 
this  beautiful  dress  was  my  worst,  everyday,  play- 
dress, —  but  you  see,  it'll  be  pretty  hard  on  Freddy. 
She'll  have  to  bring  me  my  meals  and  everything  when 
she's  been  up  all  night.  P'raps,"  with  an  air  of 
doubt,  "  I  could  stay  in  bed  all  day  without  —  but, 


LAME  DOGS  AND  FREDDY  BLUE       51 

no,  Freddy  wouldn't  let  me.  She'll  sure  bring  me 
bread  and  sugar  and  tuck  me  in.  You  come  along  in 
while  I  s'plain  to  Freddy,  and  I  just  know,  if  you'll 
smile  like  you  just  did,  she  can't  feel  so  awful  bad." 

Christine  tried  to  extricate  her  hand,  but  no  burr 
ever  clung  more  tightly  than  those  small  fingers. 
Somehow,  the  older  girl  had  the  feeling  that  if  she  ever 
let  her  gaze  meet  those  passionately  pleading  black 
eyes  she  would  be  lost.  For  a  moment  resolutely  she 
kept  her  glance  fixed  on  the  picturesque  green  gate, 
then  it  wavered,  and  was  drawn  magnetically  to  the 
black  eyes.  Not  a  word  was  spoken.  Christine  let 
herself  be  led  up  the  red-brick  walk. 

Before  they  were  half  way  up  the  front  steps,  the 
door  was  flung  open  and  a  very  tall,  athletic-looking 
girl,  with  a  shawl  thrown  carelessly  over  her  head 
and  shoulders,  plunged  out.  For  the  moment  it  was 
clear  she  had  eyes  only  for  the  small  person.  "  Tommy 
Blue,"  she  demanded  in  a  deep,  throaty  voice,  which 
Christine  instantly  pronounced  charming,  "  I've  been 
searching  everywhere  for  you  for  the  last  ten  min- 
utes. Where  have  you  been  ?  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon. 
Coming  on  Tommy  so  unexpectedly  made  me  forget 
my  manners.  I'm  so  grateful  to  you  for  bringing 
back  this  small  truant.  Wherever  did  you  find  her?  " 

There  followed  a  moment  of  silence.  The  two  girls 
were  regarding  each  other  critically,  eyes  of  velvety 
brown  measuring  odd,  honest  gray-green  eyes.  What 
they  read  there  must  have  been  satisfactory,  for  al- 
most simultaneously  their  lips  broke  into  easy  smiles 
and  a  friendship  was  born. 

"  I    really   don't   deserve   your   thanks,"    Christine 


52      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

smiled  her  magic  smile,  which  always  found  its  way 
to  the  heart  of  the  recipient.  "  I  merely  opened  the 
gate  for  Miss  Tommy,  didn't  I  — ?  " 

But  Miss  Tommy  had  slipped  from  the  detaining 
hand  and  bolted  into  the  house. 

The  tall  girl  gazed  after  the  vanished  figure  with 
a  look  in  which  amusement  struggled  with  perplexity. 
"  I  must  see  she  doesn't  wake  poor  little  Teddy, — 
she's  just  fallen  asleep.  Come  in,  won't  you,  please?  " 
Then  as  Christine  hesitated,  she  urged  in  her  warm  con- 
tralto, "If  you  only  would,  Miss  Trevor,  it  would  be 
more  of  a  help  than  you  can  imagine." 

Christine  stared  her  astonishment. 

"  I've  seen  your  picture  in  the  society  papers  too 
often  not  to  recognize  you,"  laughed  the  girl  with 
the  strong  young  face  and  wide  brows  of  a  Luini  por- 
trait. "  Besides,  once  you  were  shopping  right  close 
to  me  in  a  glove-shop,  and  a  saleslady  told  me  your 
name  after  you  left.  Do  you  know,"  she  added  after 
a  moment,  a  wistful  smile  touching  the  corners  of  her 
lips,  "  I've  thought  and  thought  and  thought  about 
you  ever  since  then,  and  wished  I  could  meet  you.  I 
wondered,"  she  ended,  naively,  "  if  some  of  your  hap- 
piness would  rub  off  on  me." 

"  My  happiness!  "  Christine  ejaculated  in  a  vibrating 
voice;  then  as  she  moved  forward  to  the  open  door, 
she  laughed,  a  laugh  edged  with  hard  notes. 

She  did  not  speak  again  until  her  companion  had 
ushered  her  into  a  large,  sun-flooded,  shabby  old  room 
and  settled  her  in  a  threadbare  armchair  that  seemed 
to  embrace  her  with  a  hospitable  welcome. 

"I  really  can't  — '  began  Christine,  as  her  hostess 


53 

gently  unpinned  the  hat  from  the  smooth,  gold  hair, 
but  the  other  interrupted  with  a  pleading  cry  that 
seemed  wrung  from  her  heart,  "  Do  stay.  If  you  only 
knew  how  I  need  a  tiny  thread  of  your  happiness 
this  morning," —  then,  with  a  quick  return  of  the  buoy- 
ancy that  seemed  to  be  so  much  a  part  of  her,  she  said, 
"  Excuse  me  for  a  minute.  I  must  see  that  Teddy's 
sound  asleep  and  Tommy's  safe  in  bed,  and  Willy's  in 
the  back  yard,  and  mother  has  her  luncheon  and  fath- 
er's music  is  packed,  and  then  I'll  be  ready  for  that 
delicious  chat  I've  been  hoping  for  ever  since  I  knew 
your  family  were  coming  to  Merrivale."  She  laughed 
as  she  closed  the  door  softly  behind  her.  It  was  like 
a  jolly  boy's  laugh,  Christine  decided,  with  such  an 
infectious,  mischievous  chuckle  in  it  that  she  smiled 
even  at  its  remembered  sound. 

It  was  a  full  ten  minutes  before  she  came  back,  but 
for  Christine  the  time  moved  with  surprising  swift- 
ness. The  hominess  and  inviting  air  of  the  shabby  old 
room  held  her  interest.  The  few  well-chosen  pictures, 
the  grandmotherly  chairs  that  fairly  lured  one  to  their 
depths,  the  worn  old  mahogany  davenport,  the  rose- 
wood center-table  piled  high  with  books  and  magazines, 
the  reading  lamp,  the  open  piano  with  its  disarray 
of  music,  the  canary  that  swung  in  his  cage  at  the 
window,  and  the  gray  kitten  purring  in  a  pool  of 
sunshine  on  a  threadbare  rug  near  the  fireplace,  all 
contributed  unmistakable  proof  that  this  was  a  room 
that  was  lived  in,  this  was  the  center  of  the  Blue  fam- 
ily heart  and  life. 

"  It's  about  the  shabbiest  room  I  ever  was  in  in 
all  my  lifej  but  there  is  something  about  it  that  makes 


54     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

a  perfectly  at-home  feeling,"  Christine  was  telling  her- 
self, when  the  tall  girl  plunged  back  into  the  room  and 
flung  herself  into  a  corner  of  the  davenport. 

"  Now,  let's  talk,  and  talk,  and  talk,"  she  began,  in 
her  deep  rich  contralto,  "  and  don't  let's  waste  a  sec- 
ond. I've  fifteen  whole  minutes  all  my  own  before 
Teddy'll  need  her  medicine.  Tell  me  all  about  how 
happy  you  are.  It'll  be  the  best  kind  of  a  tonic  for 
me  this  morning." 

"  If  I  ever  was  happy,"  Christine  said  with  a  reck- 
less little  catch  of  laughter,  "  it  must  have  been  cen- 
turies ago  when  I  was  young.  Why,  not  a  half  hour 
ago  up  in  the  woods  I  was  pitying  myself  for  being 
the  most  abused  creature  on  earth.  But  now,  some- 
how, I  don't  know  why,  I  rather  fancy  things  won't 
be  so  bad.  Perhaps,"  she  added  after  a  moment,  in 
a  sudden  burst  of  candor,  "  I'm  beginning  to  real- 
ize the  truth  about  myself."  She  laughed  again  and 
this  time  in  her  laugh  rang  youth's  lightheartedness. 
"  I  thought  I  was  making  a  martyr  of  myself,  and  all 
the  time  it  was  downright  selfishness." 

"  You  selfish !  "  Her  companion  thrust  her  fingers 
through  her  sweep  of  ash-blond  hair,  an  odd  trick  of 
hers  when  interested  or  excited.  "  Don't  say  that.  I 
read  all  about  how  you  gave  up  your  gorgeous  trip 
to  stay  home  and  mother  your  kiddie  brothers  and 
sister.  You  don't  know  how  ashamed  you've  made 
me  feel.  I'm  purple  with  envy  of  you-r  beautiful 
disposition.  The  newspapers  said  your  self-sacrifice 
was  heroic." 

"My  beautiful  disposition!  My  self-sacrifice  he- 
roic !  "  Christine  repeated  scornfully  under  her  breath, 
then  aloud:  "I  —  I  don't  usually  talk  about  myself 


55 

to  people  I  know,  much  less  to  strangers,  but  I  can't 
have  you  believe  all  that  newspaper  nonsense.  Why, 
I'm  the  selfishest  girl  on  earth  —  everybody  says  so. 
Do  you  want  to  know  the  real  reason  I  didn't  go  on 
that  cruise  ?  "  She  sat  up  very  straight  in  her  excite- 
ment, "  I  was  afraid  to.  I  knew  I  shouldn't  be  happy 
a  minute,  so  —  don't  you  see?  —  it  was  all  pure  self- 
ishness. I  was  only  thinking  about  myself.  Besides, 
the  two  months'll  soon  be  over.  Yes,  and  then  my 
postponed  honeymoon — "  she  translated  the  other's 
questioning  expression  — "  but  what's  worrying  me  is 
how'll  I  live  two  whole  months  in  this  mess  of  a 
place." 

"  Merrivale's  a  slow,  sleepy  little  place,"  said  the 
tall  girl,  curled  up  comfortably  on  her  feet  at  one 
end  of  the  davenport,  "  but  when  you're  busy,  so  busy 
you  have  to  tear  through  one  thing  to  get  time  for 
the  next,  it  doesn't  much  matter.  Anyhow,"  she  went 
on,  musingly,  "  you  can  have  your  dreams,  no  matter 
where  you  are."  A  half  minute  later  she  spoke  again 
and  mischief  lurked  in  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 
"  Perhaps  you  don't  know,  though,  Merrivale's  famous 
for  its  interesting  people." 

"Interesting!"  sniffed  Christine.  "I  can  easily 
imagine  they're  so  exciting  they  make  you  jump 
around  in  circles." 

"  Not  quite  so  thrilling  as  all  that,  but  it  isn't  every 
little  burg  that  can  boast  of  a  full-fledged  woman- 
hater,  and  where  do  you  suppose  he  lives?  In  that 
great  big  old  dungeon  next  door  to  you.  The  chil- 
dren'd  rather  take  a  beating  than  go  by  that  house 
after  nightfall,  they're  so  afraid  of  Joshua  Barton. 
Of  course,  he  really  isn't  at  all  fierce  —  just  a  bad- 


56 

tempered  old  cripple  —  but  I  certainly  don't  envy  Doug 
—  that's  his  nephew  who  lives  with  him.  Doug  and 
I  were  at  college  together  —  classmates,  you  know, 
real  pals, —  and  friends  from  the  start."  She  stopped 
short  with  a  sudden  contraction  of  her  brows,  then 
went  babblingly  on,  "  I  had  to  give  up  college,  you 
know,  when  Teddy  was  born,  and  now  Mr.  Barton's 
made  Doug  stop,  and  go  to  work." 

"  I  don't  fancy  Mr.  Joshua  Barton's  going  to  dis- 
turb my  dreams,  but  the  nephew  sounds  more  promis- 
ing. What's  his  line  ?" 

"  He's  a  —  a  dreamer.  I  believe  he  could  write  if 
his  uncle  would  let  him,  but  Mr.  Barton's  all  for  busi- 
ness," the  girl  answered  rather  curtly,  then  went  on, 
with  a  sigh,  "  It's  a  pity  Mr.  Barton's  so  —  well, 
peculiar ;  with  all  his  money  he  could  do  so  much  good 
here.  If  only  Dr.  Denton  could  interest  him  in  some 
of  the  poor  people  around  here.  You  know  Dr.  Den- 
ton,  don't  you?  Isn't  he  a  perfect  wonder?"  En- 
thusiasm kindled  her  face. 

For  some  reason  wholly  inexplicable  to  herself, 
Christine  could  not  meet  the  other's  eyes.  A  bolt  of 
fire  seemed  to  have  entered  her  heart,  and  a  curious 
feeling  of  dislike  for  this  girl  swept  over  her.  The 
next  moment  it  had  passed,  and  she  was  able  to  an- 
swer pleasantly,  "  Dr.  Denton's  cured  my  sore  ringers 
and  mended  my  broken  heart  ever  since  I  was  a  wee 
girl." 

"  He  hasn't  needed  to  mend  my  broken  heart  yet,  but 
he  has  " —  with  a  suddenly  sober  expression  — "  helped 
me  over  the  stile." 

Christine  looked  at  her  in  puzzlement. 


LAME  DOGS  AND  FREDDY  BLUE   57 

"  Gaze,"  laughed  the  other,  and  pointed  to  a  framed 
sampler  on  the  wall  which  bore  the  verse, 

"  Do  the  work  that's  nearest, 
Though  it  irks  the  while, 
Helping  when  you  meet  them 
Lame  dogs  o'er  the  stile." 

Christine  shook  her  head  with  a  whimsical  little 
smile.  "  Lame  dogs  aren't  much  in  my  line.  I  al- 
ways run  when  I  see  one." 

"  No,  not  really !  I  always  thought  women  adored 
cuddling  lame  things." 

"  I'd  go  miles  out  of  my  way  not  to  see  a  cripple 
or  —  or  a  blind  person,"  Christine  flashed  out  with 
such  flaming  intensity  that  her  companion  stared  at 
her  in  open  astonishment.  "  I  can't  bear  to  have  my 
feelings  all  worked  up  for  nothing,  and  besides,  what's 
the  use?  There  are  enough  people  who  do  like  to 
fuss  over  the  lame  and  the  halt  and  the  blind.  That's 
the  real  reason  " —  her  words  came  in  a  rush  — "  that 
I  didn't  want  to  come  in  here.  I  met  Docky, —  Dr. 
Denton  —  and  he  wanted  me  to  see  a  cripple,  I  suppose 
she's  your  sister,  Fredericka  Blue." 

The  other  girl  sat  up  suddenly  and  stared,  then 
rippled  out  into  a  wave  of  gay  laughter.  "I  —  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  she  gurgled,  "  but  that's  funny.  Great, 
big,  strong,  healthy  me,  big  enough  for  two  men,  a 
cripple!  I'm  Fredericka  Blue,  you  know,  but  every- 
body calls  me  Freddy." 

"  You  Fredericka  Blue.  "  stammered  Christine,  for 
once  startled  out  of  her  composure.  "  Dr.  Denton  said 
you  needed  me,  and  of  course  I  supposed  — " 


58     CHRISTINE  OE  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  That  I  must  be  a  cripple  or  he  wouldn't  be  in- 
terested in  me,"  Freddy  promptly  filled  in  the  gap. 
"  It's  my  littlest  sister,  Teddy,  who's  a  —  she  has  a 
hip  trouble,  and  I  was  up  with  her  most  of  the  night, 
and  when  Dr.  Denton  came  and  wanted  me  to  get 
out  into  the  sunshine,  I  told  him  I  couldn't  be  spared, 
and  then  it  suddenly  popped  into  my  mind  that  you 
could  bring  the  sunshine  to  me,  and  so  I  told  him 
just  as  a  joke  if  he  ran  into  you  —  he  told  me  about 
your  brother  Laurie  the  other  day  —  he  should  send 
you  to  me." 

The  silence  was  unbroken  for  a  full  moment,  then 
Freddy  smiled  companionably.  "  I  always  tell  Dr. 
Denton  his  favorite  pastime's  helping  lame  dogs  over 
the  stile,  and  you  should  hear  him  laugh  when  I  say 
I'm  the  lamest  dog  of  all,  but,  honestly,  I  don't  know 
how  I  could  have  lived  through  that  dreadful  time 
without  him,  when  Teddy  was  born  with  that  hip 
trouble  and  mother's  health  gave  out,  and  that  meant 
I  had  to  leave  college.  You  see  there  are  six  of  us 
girls  —  we  all  have  boys'  names,  though ;  mother  and 
father  were  always  so  disappointed  we  didn't  turn 
out  to  be  boys  —  and  father's  a  dear  darling,  but  he 
isn't  much  use  where  the  children  are  concerned,  he's 
so  wrapped  up  in  his  music.  Dr.  Denton  was  the  only 
one  I  could  rave  to  when  sometimes  it  seemed  as  if 
I  just  couldn't  give  up  my  dream  of  doing  settlement 
work  to  stay  home  and  look  after  father  and  mother 
and  the  kiddies.  But  my  word,"  she  interrupted  her- 
self with  a  spontaneous  laugh,  "  I  didn't  intend  to 
tell  you  the  sa-a-ad  story  of  me  life.  Your  know- 
ing my  doctor  must  have  loosened  my  tongue." 

Again  that  bolt  of  fire  sped  through  Christine  and 


LAME  DOGS  AND  FREDDY  BLUE       59 

again  that  dislike  for  her  companion  surged  through 
her  only  to  vanish  at  her  next  words. 

"  I  often  wonder  how  many  people  call  him  that 

—  my  doctor —  for  that's  just  the  way  he  makes  you 
feel,  all  yours,  his  sympathy  and  understanding  and 

—  oh,  everything." 

"  He's  — "  began  Christine  thoughtfully,  when  a 
loud  noise  behind  her  made  her  turn  sharply  toward 
the  window.  Two  children  with  ear-piercing  shrieks 
were  tearing  down  the  road.  Each  trailed  a  crutch  in 
the  dust.  At  their  heels,  shouting  and  screaming  with 
laughter,  raced  a  motley  crew  of  boys  and  girls. 
Without  a  word,  Christine  bounded  out  of  the  open 
window  in  pursuit.  The  boy  and  the  girl  with  the 
crutches  were  the  Trevor  twins. 


CHAPTER  VI 

STOLEN    CRUTCHES 

One  resolve  gripped  Christine.  At  the  risk  of  life 
and  limb,  she  would  catch  the  twins  before  they  reached 
Currer  Road  —  Agnes  Archer  and  Bess  Compton 
often  spun  of  a  morning  through  this  picturesque  old 
highway,  though  it  lured  them  some  five  miles  out 
of  their  course,  on  their  way  to  the  Country  Club. 
She  would  die  of  sheer  mortification  if  — 

Exactly  what  happened  was  never  clear  in  her  mind. 
But  the  next  instant  she  had  executed  the  running 
broad-jump  that  had  won  her  undying  fame  at  Warren 
Hall,  grazed  the  front  wheel  of  a  curveting  automobile 
and  landed  in  a  heap  in  a  ditch  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  road. 

She  was  on  her  feet  brushing  off  mud  from  her  white 
sport  skirt  almost  before  the  driver  of  the  car  could 
throw  open  the  door  to  leap  to  the  rescue. 

"  I  do  h-hope  you're  not  hurt,"  he  said,  with  a  pro- 
nounced stammer  that  excitement  made  more  notice- 
able. His  voice  trembled  in  spite  of  his  evident  strug- 
gle for  self-control,  and  the  big  dark  bespectacled  eyes 
held  a  boy's  terror. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  Christine  promptly  reassured  him. 
She  straightened  up  from  the  operation  of  flicking 
mud  from  her  skirt-hem  to  find  to  her  surprise  that 
her  eyes  were  almost  on  a  level  with  his.  "  It's  just 

<5o 


STOLEN  CRUTCHES  61 

that  my  pride  tumbled  into  the  ditch  with  me,"  with 
the  flicker  of  a  smile.  "  To  think  I  couldn't  jump 
that!" 

He  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  that  was  almost  an  ex- 
plosion. "  I'm  m-mighty  g-glad."  After  a  mo- 
ment's silence  in  which  he  stood  gazing  at  the  ground 
with  the  expression  of  one  who  longed  for  it  to  open 
and  swallow  him  up,  he  burst  out  shyly,  "I  —  where 
were  you  g-going  when  —  ?  I  say,  you  must  1-let  me 
t-take  you  home, —  that  is,  if  you'll  t-trust  my  b-bad 
chauffing." 

His  humility  and  distress  were  so  genuine  that  a 
warm  smile  puckered  the  corners  of  Christine's  mouth. 
It  really  hadn't  been  wholly  his  fault.  She  hadn't 
been  looking  where  she  was  going,  and  besides,  if  she 
hadn't  been  out  of  practice  she  should  have  cleared 
that  ditch  with  ease.  Of  course,  a  more  experienced 
driver —  There  was  something  so  appealing  about 
this  slim,  shy  boy,  probably  not  more  than  two  years 
her  senior,  who  stood  there,  a  figure  of  despair,  that 
she  longed  to  comfort  him. 

"  No  damage  done  that  can't  be  easily  repaired," 
she  said  lightly,  then  an  irrepressible  laugh  escaped. 
"  You  surely  did  about  the  best  serpentine  I've  ever 
seen."  Instantly  her  dimple  disappeared  at  a  sud- 
den thought.  "  I'm  forgetting  I  was  chasing  a  pair 
of  runaway  twins  when  we  —  er  —  met,"  she  turned 
her  troubled  gaze  down  the  deserted  street,  "  but  they 
seem  to  have  vanished  completely.  Perhaps  you 
would  be  willing  — " 

But  with  an  emphatic  shake  of  the  head  he  slipped 
his  arm  in  hers  and  drew  her  toward  the  roadster. 
"  No  sir-eee.  I'll  t-take  you  home,  if  you  p-please, 


62      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

but  no  more  d-driving  for  me  to-day.  My  nerves  are 
all  s-shot  up.  The  truth  is,"  he  said,  in  the  burst 
of  confidence  which  is  so  often  a  safety-valve  for  a 
painfully  shy  soul,  "  I'm  not  long  on  machines.  I 
g-get  to  thinking  " —  there  was  a  prolonged  pause  in 
which  he  devoted  his  entire  attention  to  starting  the 
engine  — "  and  er-dreaming,  and  I  go  moseying  along, 
not  p-paying  much  attention  except  to  what's  g-going 
on  in  my  head,  and,  first  thing,  something  breaks  loose 
the  way  it  did  just  now.  Are  we  h-headed  in  the 
right  direction  for  you  ?  " 

Demurely  Christine  named  her  destination.  Almost 
at  sight  she  had  divined  who  her  companion  was.  So 
she  was  not  unprepared  for  his  outburst  of  surprise. 

"  Our  next-door  neighbor.  Whizz,  what  luck !  " 
The  pale,  sensitive  face  lighted  with  boyish  enthusiasm, 
but  a  breath  later  his  tone  had  lost  its  joyous  edge. 
"  I'm  Douglas  Barton,  but  I  don't  suppose  we'll  get 
to  know  each  other  very  well,  though.  Uncle  Joshua 
isn't  —  er  —  fond  of  next-door  neighbors.  But  I've 
always  w-wished  there  was  some  one  —  y-young,  you 
know,  that  I  could  have  for  a  friend.  Of  course, 
there's  Freddy  Blue — "  he  paused  thoughtfully,  "but 
she's  so  busy,  these  days,  somehow  things  don't  seem 
the  same.  We  used  to  be  g-great  p-pals  — "  He  broke 
off  to  concentrate  on  the  task  of  avoiding  a  heavy 
auto-truck  which  was  coming  top-speed  down  the 
road.  He  did  not  speak  again  until  he  had  swerved 
jerkily  round  the  corner  on  one  wheel.  Then  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  grim  old  gray  pile  which  had  reminded 
Christine  of  the  "  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher  "  seemed 
to  electrify  him  with  a  painful  thought. 


STOLEN  CRUTCHES  63 

"I  —  I  say,"  he  threw  out  his  hands,  in  a  sudden 
helpless  gesture,  "  I  c-clean  forgot." 

Christine  had  a  lurid  vision  of  a  car  turned  turtle 
over  her  mangled  body,  yet  managed  a  calming,  "  It'll 
be  worse  than  a  case  of  forgetting  if  you  don't  keep 
your  hands  on  the  wheel.  There's  where  I  live,  and, 
somehow,  this  morning  I'm  peculiarly  anxious  to  get 
there  whole." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  half  groaned,  "  and  this  is 
w-where  I  1-live,  and  that's  just  it.  I  won't  be  alive 
when  Uncle  Joshua  g-gets  through  with  me.  I  was 
g-going  for  his  crutches  when  we  —  er  — " 

"  His  crutches !  "  gasped  the  girl,  with  a  sudden 
startled  understanding  in  her  eyes. 

Douglas  gazed  at  her  in  alarm.  "  You  are  hurt. 
You  didn't  know  it.  It's  all  my  f -fault  — " 

"  I'm  all  right,"  Christine  hastened  to  assure  him, 
with  a  touch  of  impatience.  "  Go  on,  tell  me  a»bout 
your  Uncle  Joshua's  crutches.  He  wanted  you  to  buy 
him  some  new  crutches  and  you  forgot." 

He  swung  the  car  in  at  the  driveway  of  Christine's 
home  before  he  explained,  "  I  wasn't  to  b-buy  them. 
It  was  this  way.  M-Mark,  Uncle  Joshua's  m-man, 
'phoned  me  down  at  Uncle's  bank  —  I  work  there 
now  " —  with  a  smothered  sigh.  "  I  was  to  b-bring 
the  c-car  and  chase  up  his  crutches.  Uncle  Joshua 
was  having  a  s-sun-bath  in  the  garden,  and  when  he 
woke  up,  his  crutches  were  gone,  and  his  favorite  pair, 
too.  I  can't  imagine  who'd  steal  crutches  — " 

"  I've  a  better  imagination  than  you,"  Christine  ob- 
served in  a  smothered  voice,  as  she  bounded  out  of  the 
car  before  it  had  come  to  a  full  stop.  "  I  don't  fancy 


64      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

myself  as  a  detective,  but  '  muchas  gracias '  for  taxi- 
ing me  home,  and  who  knows,  perhaps  I  can  reward 
you,"  she  went  on,  with  her  most  engaging  smile, 
"  by  helping  you  find  Uncle  Joshua's  crutches." 

But  she  knew  she  would  first  have  to  trap  Daffy  and 
Dilly  before  she  could  locate  the  missing  crutches. 
Perhaps  they  had  already  come  home.  She  would  ask 
Laurie.  He  was  undoubtedly  in  his  room. 

Hauntingly  sweet  strains  of  melody  drew  her  to 
the  living-room  door.  The  boy  was  playing  "  Oh ! 
That  We  Two  were  Maying."  Christine  well  remem- 
bered that  it  had  been  a  favorite  with  her  mother. 
Even  yet  over  the  span  of  years  she  could  hear  that 
voice  with  the  thrilling  purity  of  the  notes  of  a  bird, 
vibrate  to  the  dreamy  pathos  of 

"  Oh  !  that  we  two  were  Maying 
Down  the  stream  of  the  soft  spring  breeze; 
Like  children  with  violets  playing 
In  the  shade  of  the  whisp'ring  trees. 

"  Oh  !  that  we  two  sat  dreaming 
On  the  sward  of  some  sheep-trimm'd  down 
Watching  the  white  mist  streaming 
O'er  river  and  meadow  and  town. 

"  Oh !  that  we  two  lay  sleeping 
In  our  nest  in  the  churchyard  sod 
With  our  limbs  at  rest  on  the  quiet  earth's  breast, 
And  our  souls  at  home  with  God." 

She  stood  till  the  last  note  was  gone,  stirred  to  the 
depths  of  her  being,  then,  with  a  newborn  gentle- 
ness of  manner,  slipped  into  the  room.  Steadfastly 
she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  boy's  face,  and  for 
the  first  time  she  saw  in  that  young  face  a  fragile, 


STOLEN  CRUTCHES  65 

delicate  quality,  so  spiritudle  as  to  grip  the  heart,  but 
over  and  beyond  that,  the  glow  of  a  steady  fire  as  of 
a  soul  triumphing  over  weakness  of  body. 

"  Laurie."  The  sound  of  her  voice  seemed  to  startle 
him  from  a  dear  dream.  He  turned  his  head  slowly,  a 
rapt  expression  in  his  great  dark  eyes,  but  his  face 
broke  delightfully  into  a  smile  at  sight  of  her. 

"  Laurie,"  she  began  again.  She  would  not  let  her 
eyes  stray  from  his  face.  His  body  was  distorted,  but 
Docky  had  spoken  of  his  beautiful  soul.  It  was  there. 
She  could  fairly  see  it  in  his  face.  "  I  want  to  find 
Daffy  and  Dilly.  They've  been  getting  themselves 
into  mischief.  I  thought — " 

Childish  voices  raised  high  in  dispute  made  her 
pause  on  her  unfinished  sentence.  As  usual,  Daffy 
was  in  the  lead,  when  the  twins,  like  diminutive  tor- 
nadoes, tore  into  the  living-room,  and  her  treble  was 
uppermost  as  they  rushed  upon  Laurie. 

"  I  saw  'em  first  'n'  said  you  was  to  get  'em,  'n' 
you  just  got  to  let  me  tell.  Laurie,  Laurie,  look  here." 
Triumphantly  each  twin  displayed  a  crutch,  but  it 
was  Daffy's  quick  tongue  that  tripped  on,  "  We  was 
playing  by  the  barn,  'n'  we  saw  an  old  ogre,  over  in 
the  next  yard,  and  what  do  you  think,  he  was  sleep- 
ing in  the  sun — " 

"  Just  like  the  story  you  read  us  yesterday,"  Dilly 
cut  in,  but  was  checked  by  the  thrust  of  a  small  el- 
bow. 

"  You  hush  up,  Dilly  —  you've  got  to  let  me  tell 
— 'n'  I  saw  his  crutches  on  a  bench ;  you  know  those 
awful  crutches  in  the  story,  Laurie,  Black  Temper  'n' 
Meanness.  I  spied  'em  right  away  'n'  we  went  up  tip- 
toe, tip-toe,  'n'  got  'em  'n'  he  never  woke  up  'n'  some 


66      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

bad  boys  'n'  girls  chased  us  down  the  street  'n'  we 
runned  'n'  runned  fast — " 

"  Down  two  alleys,  'n'  three  lots,"  shouted  Dilly,  in 
great  excitement. 

"  But  they  never  catched  us,"  said  Daffy,  as  she 
proudly  waggled  her  blond  head,  disheveled  and  guilt- 
less of  a  hat,  "  'n'  we're  glad  we  got  the  crutches, 
'cause  the  ogre  can't  hurt  the  princess  without  'em, 
now  can  he,  Laurie  ?  I  — " 

"  O  —  oh,"  the  twins  shrieked  in  sudden  dismay, 
and  stood  for  the  merest  fraction  of  a  second,  eyes 
fright-rounded.  At  one  and  the  same  moment  they 
had  made  the  paralyzing  discovery  —  Laurie  was  not 
alone.  Christine  was  in  the  room.  She  had  heard. 
She  knew  all.  She  would  not  understand.  She  never 
did.  With  one  accord  they  seized  each  other's  hands 
and  fled,  leaving  their  loot  behind. 

Laurie  broke  the  silence  that  followed  the  banging 
of  the  door. 

"  They  didn't  mean  to  do  wrong,"  he  lifted  eyes 
eloquent  with  entreaty.  "  They're  the  best  kiddies  in 
seven  states." 

It  was  a  full  half -moment  before  she  spoke.  Her 
mind  was  picturing  vividly  the  confident  clinging  of 
Tommy  Blue  to  her  motherly  sister.  How  differently 
the  twins  — !  Impatiently  she  shrugged  away  the  un- 
pleasant thought.  Crisply  she  flung  out,  "  H'm,  actions 
speak  louder  than  words.  Those  twins  have  got  to  be 
disciplined.  They've  run  wild-  so  long  they  think 
their  will's  law.  Amelia's  too  easy.  I'm  going  to 
take  them  in  hand,  myself." 

Laurie's  thin  hands  clasped  with  unconscious  eager- 


STOLEN  CRUTCHES  67 

ness.  "  If  you'd  only  try  to  be  interested  in  them  just 
a  little  bit,  you  could  do  wonders.  But  you  can't  get 
them  to  do  things  if  you're  cross.  I  know.  They'll 
trot  their  legs  off  for  you,  though,  if  they  like  you. 
I  guess  most  people  are  like  that,"  he  wound  up,  with 
a  wisdom  beyond  his  years. 

"  Well,  believe  me,  they're  going  to  catch  it  for 
this  scrape.  Let  me  see,  I'll  make  them  — "  Tommy 
Blue's  dictum  rose  up  suddenly  in  her  mind ;  the  pun- 
ishment must  fit  the  crime.  " —  I'll  make  them  carry 
those  crutches  back  to  Mr.  Barton  and  apologize  this 
very  instant,"  announced  the  girl,  her  head  flung  high 
in  decision.  "Where's  Amelia?"  she  turned  in  the 
doorway.  "  They'll  have  to  be  made  presentable 
first." 

"  Amelia  had  to  go  to  town  early  this  morning. 
Her  brother's  sick.  She  won't  be  back  till  night." 
After  a  moment  in  which  his  fingers  picked  nervously 
at  the  strings  of  the  violin,  he  went  on,  "  Please,  Chris- 
tine, don't  row  with  the  twins.  Let  me  go  myself 
next-door  and  take  back  those  crutches.  I'd  really 
like  to.  I  haven't  been  out  to-day."  He  gave  her  a 
sudden  smile  which  lit  up  his  rather  sad  young  face. 

"  That's  just  how  those  twins  get  spoiled.  No,  they 
must  suffer  the  consequences  of  their  own  naughti- 
ness." A  youthful  severity  hardened  her  face.  "  I'll 
hunt  them  up  myself." 

She  had  already  taken  a  half-dozen  steps  down  the 
hall  when  suddenly  she  stopped,  frowned,  took  an- 
other step  or  two  towards  the  stairs,  halted  again, 
wheeled  sharply  about,  and  ran  back  to  thrust  her 
bright  head  in  the  living-room  door  and  say,  a  bit 


breathlessly,  "  It  was  nice  of  you,  Laurie,  to  have 
my  fixings  and  those  dear  flowers  put  in  my  room. 
Thanks,  awfully." 

Before  the  startled  boy  could  find  his  voice,  she 
was  pelting  up  the  front  stairs. 

At  the  end  of  a  long  half-hour  Christine  had  to 
acknowledge  her  defeat.  She  had  scrupulously 
searched  every  inch  of  the  Trevor  house  and  grounds, 
but  the  twins  had  vanished  completely.  Her  lips  set- 
tled into  firm  lines.  "  Those  crutches  must  go  back 
now.  I'll  have  to  send  our  maid-of-all-work." 

Involuntarily  she  made  a  little  grimace  as  she 
slipped  down  the  back  stairs  to  the  kitchen.  She  was 
treading  on  unfamiliar  and  unpleasant  ground.  She 
had  small  acquaintance  with  the  kitchen,  the  workshop 
of  the  home.  She  wrinkled  her  nose  in  disgust.  It 
would  be  a  smelly,  messy,  cluttery  place,  but  she  sup- 
posed she  could  endure  it  for  a  moment.  She  was 
determined  to  send  back  those  crutches  at  once. 

On  the  threshold  she  paused  and  stared.  It  was 
like  a  setting  for  a  stage-kitchen  —  a  bright,  large, 
cheerful  room,  in  which  every  copper  and  tin  utensil 
acted  as  a  mirror  for  the  sun.  At  first  sight  she 
thought  that  the  room  was  deserted,  but  a  moment  later 
she  heard  some  one  speak  from  the  recesses  of  a 
pantry.  She  took  a  step  or  two  into  the  room,  but 
the  sounds  that  issued  from  the  pantry  transfixed 
her. 

"  Yes,  Misery,  it's  your  sad  day,  but  you  ain't  goin' 
to  salt  the  soup  with  tears.  You  promised  the  good 
doctor  that,  so  just  start  to  singin'  again,  and  chase 
them  blue  devils  away."  Whereupon  the  owner  of 
the  voice  began  to  crot>n  a  weird  but  not  unpleasant 


STOLEN  CRUTCHES  69 

little  strain  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  scrubbing- 
brush,  vigorously  applied.  Suddenly  the  singing 
stopped.  There  was  silence,  then  the  voice  began 
again,  "  Now,  Snubby,  you  get  to  work  and  dig  out 
the  dirt  in  that  corner,  yes,  harder,  harder  than  that. 
There,  that's  done.  Now  we'll  put  Sunny  Face  over 
to  boil,  and  begin  to  get  lunch." 

The  next  instant  a  tall,  lanky  but  still  young  figure, 
with  skirts  tucked  up  about  her,  and  armed  with  pail 
and  scrubbing  brush,  emerged  from  the  pantry.  As 
she  saw  Christine  she  dropped  back  a  step  in  fright, 
and  emitted  the  squawk  of  a  frightened  hen.  "  Gor, 
you  gave  me  a  turn.  I  didn't  know  anyone  was 
here." 

Her  eyes  were  a-stream  with  tears  but  she  smiled 
gallantly  through  them.  "  Beggin'  your  pardon,  Miss, 
for  them  tears,  but  it's  all  on  account  of  my  babe 
gone  a  year  to-day  and  my  husband  two  months  be- 
fore that.  I  was  havin'  it  out  in  there  with  Snubby  " 
—  she  held  out  the  scrubbing  brush  — "  and  maybe  you 
heard  me  speakin'  queerlike  to  it,  but  when  you're 
alone  so  much  and  got  nothing  but  thoughts  for 
friends  you  like  to  talk  to  anything,  so  I  just  give 
everything  a  name  and  make  out  as  they're  alive. 
Sunny  Face  is  one  of  the  best  friends  I  got,"  she  lifted 
a  shining  copper  teakettle  from  the  stove  as  she  spoke 
and  proceeded  to  fill  it  with  water.  "  You  see,  Miss, 
I  gave  my  promise  to  Dr.  Denton  when  I  came  to 
work  for  you,"  she  went  on,  eagerly  communicative, 
"  not  to  let  the  blues  get  me  like  they  used  to  till  I 
most  went  out  of  my  head,  and  I'm  try  in'  hard  to 
keep  my  word." 

"  Another  of  Docky's  lame  dogs,"  Christine  found 


70     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

herself  mumbling;  then  she  said  aloud,  "You  haven't 
seen  anything  of  the  twins  ?  "  She  asked  the  ques- 
tion with  a  quick  realization  that  this  young  woman 
would  be  no  fit  messenger.  "I  —  you  —  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  know  your  name." 

"  Misery,"  was  the  prompt  reply, —  at  least  that 
was  what  the  girl  gathered.  Later  she  learned  it  was 
Mrs.  Ray,  who  was  the  genius  of  the  Trevor  kitchen, 
but,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  for  Christine  and  the 
young  Trevors,  she  was  always  "  Misery." 

When  Christine  closed  the  kitchen  door  behind  her, 
she  stopped  to  shake  an  angry  fist  at  fate.  It  was 
perfectly  clear  that  if  the  crutches  were  to  be  carried 
back  at  once,  as  had  been  her  imperious  dictum,  she 
would  have  to  take  them  herself.  There  was  nothing 
on  earth  she  should  hate  more.  But  for  the  sake  of 
the  Trevor  family  honor  — 

With  one  of  her  characteristically  hasty  decisions, 
she  flew  to  her  room  to  smooth  her  gleaming-gold 
hair,  then  properly  coated  and  hatted,  crutches  un- 
der her  arm,  marched  down  the  front  walk  to  the 
gate  and  fleet-footed  it  into  the  grounds  of  her  next- 
door  neighbor. 

The  color  in  her  cheeks  was  burning  high,  but  her 
head  was  held  proudly  erect.  She  would  deliver  the 
crutches  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Barton's  man  —  he 
would  undoubtedly  answer  the  door.  Then  she  would 
offer  a  cold  but  handsome  apology  for  the  twins'  mis- 
behavior and  so  the  unpleasant  incident  would  end. 

She  was  racing  along,  wrapped  in  thought,  when  a 
harsh  voice  behind  her  suddenly  challenged  her. 
Startled,  she  twisted  her  head  to  glance  back  over 
her  shoulder.  There  in  the  sunshine  under  a  huge 


STOLEN  CRUTCHES  71 

oak  lay  the  form  of  a  man  extended  in  a  steamer- 
chair.  A  dozen  shawls  and  steamer-rugs  bound  him 
into  the  likeness  of  a  mummy-figure. 

Involuntarily  Christine  shuddered.  It  was  like 
looking  into  a  face  carved  of  granite.  The  deep- 
sunken  eyes  were  cold  and  hard  as  gray  stones,  the 
mouth  was  thin-lipped,  sternly  set;  the  aquiline  nose 
was  refined  to  sharpness,  and  on  every  feature,  in 
every  line,  was  stamped  a  deadly  grimness. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  the  harsh  voice  de- 
manded for  a  second  time. 

The  girl  drew  a  step  nearer  before  she  answered 
in  her  sweet  young  voice,  "  I've  come  to  return  your 
crutches,  sir.  My  small  brother  and  sister  made  off 
with  them.  They  thought  it  was  all  part  of  a  story." 

To  her  surprise  no  answer  came.  Then  she  real- 
ized that  the  man  was  staring  wildly  at  her,  his  face 
the  gray  of  ashes,  his  lips  parted  as  if  in  terror.  One 
hand  crept  up  flutteringly.  So  for  a  full  moment  he 
stared,  stared. 

Suddenly  he  raised  himself  up  on  his  elbow,  and,  ex- 
tricating his  hand  with  difficulty,  shook  a  trembling 
fist  at  her.  "  Go,  go,  this  instant,  Christine."  His 
voice  was  hoarse  with  passion.  "  Never  dare  to  come 
here  again." 


CHAPTER  VII 

CALLERS 

Her  head  proudly  erect,  Christine  made  her  way 
down  the  Barton  garden  path.  Once  beyond  the 
range  of  those  stony  eyes,  however,  she  threw  all  dig- 
nity to  the  winds  and  ran  at  top  speed.  Her  mind 
was  a  torrent  of  angry  thoughts.  Horrid  old  man! 
How  dared  he  treat  her,  Christine  Trevor,  as  if  she 
were  a  beggar  or  a  pedlar  and  order  her  out  of  his 
grounds !  Mentally  she  stamped  her  foot.  Did  he 
for  one  moment  suppose  she  had  wanted  to  come? 
She  wished  he  might  have  known  what  a  terrific  tussle 
she  had  had  with  herself  before  she  could  bring  her- 
self to  deliver  those  wretched  crutches  in  person. 

It  was  not  until  she  was  racing  up  her  own  front 
steps  that  his  passionate  words,  unbidden,  repeated 
themselves  in  her  mind.  "  Go,  go,  this  instant,  Chris- 
tine. Never  dare  come  here  again."  Christine  in- 
deed! Rather  familiar,  to  put  it  mildly.  And  pray, 
just  how  had  he  learned  her  name?  Her  lips  curved 
suddenly  in  a  warm,  reminiscent  smile.  His  nephew 
had  undoubtedly  mentioned  their  chance  meeting  and 
had  spoken  her  name. 

She  gave  an  expressive  shrug  of  her  shoulders  as 
she  flung  into  her  bedroom.  Joshua  Barton  might 
calm  his  fears.  Nothing  in  the  heavens  or  the  earth 
for  that  matter  would  induce  her  ever  to  set  foot 
again  in  that  old  ogre's  grounds. 

72 


CALLERS  73 

On  a  sudden  whimsy  she  resolved  to  register  her 
oath.  Armed  with  sketch  book  and  pencil,  she 
dropped  down  on  the  window-seat,  and  in  less  than 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  drawn  a  fairly  recognizable 
picture  of  the  mummified  figure  in  the  steamer-chair 
which  she  had  encountered  on  the  Barton  lawn. 

Underneath  the  drawing  she  promptly  affixed  these 
words,  "  I,  Christine  Trevor,  spinster,  being  of  sound 
mind  and  body,  do  hereby  solemnly  swear  never  to 
speak  to,  look  at,  or  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
above  monster." 

She  slipped  the  drawing  into  her  sketch-book,  and 
thrust  it  into  her  desk-drawer.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  she  was  attracted  to  the  huge  nosegay  of  wild 
flowers  that  graced  her  dressing-table,  and  the  snatches 
of  conversation  of  the  twins  which  she  had  chanced 
to  overhear  earlier  in  the  morning  came  crowding 
into  her  memory.  So  they  were  trying  their  honest- 
best  to  gain  her  love  and  make  her  a  really  truly  sister. 
Her  cheeks  burned  high  with  color.  She  would  tell 
them  and  Laurie  —  but  where  were  the  twins  ? 

In  her  anger  at  Joshua  Barton's  unceremonious  dis- 
missal she  had  completely  forgotten  those  young  run- 
aways. She  must  hunt  them  up  at  once.  But  where  ? 
Perhaps  they  were  down  in  the  village  bent  on  some 
fresh  mischief  which  would  bring  new  disgrace  to 
the  already  tarnished  name  of  Trevor. 

Christine  pulled  on  her  hat  with  an  impatient  sigh. 
She  was  bone-tired.  She  wanted  nothing  so  much 
as  a  nap  and  a  bath  before  lunch.  But  the  something 
which  she  was  beginning  to  recognize  as  a  force 
stronger  than  her  own  personal  desires  sent  her  out 
in  pursuit  of  the  missing  twins. 


74      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Warm,  weary,  dishevelled,  chagrined,  she  came  back 
at  the  end  of  a  dragging  hour.  Her  search  had  been 
unavailing.  There  was  nothing  to  do,  she  told  her- 
self grimly,  when  she  found  there  was  still  no  trace 
of  them  at  home,  but  to  scour  the  village  again.  She 
made  quick  work  of  luncheon,  which  she  ate  in  soli- 
tary state. 

Her  cheeks  flamed  and  her  lips  set,  when  "  Misery  " 
on  her  own  initiative  informed  her  that  Master  Laurie 
had  eaten  a  bite  in  the  kitchen  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before,  and  was  again  hard  at  work  at  lessons  in  his 
bedroom. 

Another  evidence  of  Laurie's  thought f ulness !  He 
had  lunched  in  the  kitchen  to  spare  her  feelings.  It 
had  been  easy  enough  in  the  other  elaborate  menage 
of  the  Trevors  to  avoid  meeting  the  boy  at  meal-times. 
She  had  been  always  on  the  wing,  and  on  those  very 
infrequent  occasions  when  she  had  lunched  or  dined 
at  home,  she  had  been  served  in  her  sitting- 
room!  It  would  be  far  more  difficult  now.  With 
only  one  servant-of -all-work  to  assist  Amelia,  it  was 
hardly  to  be  expected  that  she  could  dine  when  she 
willed,  neither  would  Amelia  allow  her  beloved  Laurie 
to  frequent  the  kitchen.  The  family  would  have  to 
foregather  at  regular  hours.  Again  Christine  gave 
a  sigh.  It  would  be  bitter-hard,  but  then —  From 
her  face  a  sudden  radiance  flamed.  In  just  fifty-nine 
days  now  she  would  be  liberated.  Cort  would  be  back 
the  first  week  in  June.  Her  eyes  grew  pensive  with 
sudden  longing.  It  was  a  glorious  day  for  a  spin 
through  the  country  roads.  If  only  she  had  her  car, 
or  if  Cort  had  but  thought  to  give  her  the  use  of  one 
of  his  half-dozen!  Well,  she  would  drive  away  her 


CALLERS  75 

gloomy  thoughts  by  writing  Cort  a  long  account  of 
her  eventful  morning,  and  then  she  would  continue 
her  pursuit  of  those  young  will-o'-the-wisps. 

Suddenly  she  sprang  to  the  window.  Her  quick 
eyes  had  sighted  a  small,  dark  object  creeping  along 
the  outer  side  of  the  hedge  which  separated  Barton 
and  Trevor  lawns.  Intently  she  watched  a  moment 
to  make  assurance  doubly  sure.  Now  she  could  see 
not  only  one  object  stealing  along  close  to  the  ground, 
but  two. 

A  moment  afterward  she  had  thrown  open  the 
French  window  and  cleared  the  veranda  in  a  bound 
that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  boy  athlete.  But 
the  two  small  objects  must  have  been  on  the  look- 
out for  precisely  such  a  raid,  for,  before  Christine 
was  half  way  down  the  lawn,  they  were  running,  fleet 
as  two  young  deer,  across  the  forbidden  territory  of 
their  neighbor's  lawn. 

Anger  burned  high  in  Christine.  This  chase  had 
gone  on  long  enough.  And  when  once  she  did  catch 
them  — !  Her  lips  settled  into  hard  lines  and  her 
eyes  gleamed  black.  She  would  punish  them  as  they 
had  never  been  punished  before  in  their  lives. 
She  had  just  gathered  herself  together  to  vault  the 
corner  of  the  hedge  when  the  honking  of  a  familiar 
horn  and  the  shouted  greetings  of  even  more  familiar 
voices  arrested  her.  She  wheeled  sharply  about. 
But,  even  before  she  looked,  she  knew.  The  formless 
dread  that  had  been  lurking  in  the  back  of  her  mind 
had  taken  shape. 

Agnes  Archer  and  Bess  Compton  on  their  home- 
ward way  from  the  Country  Club  had  swung  into  the 
Trevor  drive.  In  a  glance  she  saw  it  all, —  Agnes'  new 


76      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

roadster,  the  apotheosis  of  luxurious  up-to-dateness, 
the  smart  new  golf  costumes  of  the  two  girls,  and 
their  finely  groomed  appearance.  In  the  mental  mir- 
ror of  her  dismay  she  saw  herself,  flushed,  disheveled, 
in  a  white  skirt  and  blouse  of  a  past  year's  fashion. 

But  what  she  did  not  see  in  her  mental  mirror  was 
the  high  lights  that  the  sun  drew  from  her  red-gold 
hair,  nor  the  flower-like  beauty  of  her  face  nor  the 
charming  brightness  of  the  smile  with  which  she  ran 
to  welcome  them,  hands  out-held. 

"  Hello,  Agnes,  hello,  Bess.  It's  ripping  good  to 
see  you  again." 

"  I've  just  been  up  to  the  Club,  getting  in  trim  for 
the  tournament,"  drawled  Agnes  Archer,  in  her  fash- 
ionably high-keyed  voice.  She  was  a  sallow,  black- 
haired,  black-eyed  girl,  still  in  her  teens.  Her  lips 
habitually  held  a  curve  of  discontent  and  she  affected 
such  exaggeratedly  thin,  silhouette  lines  of  dress  that 
one  of  her  set  had  likened  her  to  a  hairpin  slimly 
covered.  "  I  say,  Chris,  I  can't  see  why  you  cut  out 
golf,  just  because  you  —  lost  your  father.  It's  not 
gaiety.  It's  exercise  and  all  that,  you  know." 

A  spot  of  red  burned  under  her  eyes,  but  Christine 
managed  to  answer  composedly.  "  We're  not  mem- 
bers —  now.  Besides,  I  —  I  haven't  the  heart  for  it." 

Bess  Compton,  a  sunny-haired  bundle  of  good-na- 
ture and  giggles,  threw  herself  promptly  into  the 
breach.  "  Come  as  my  guest,  Chris,  as  often  as  you 
like.  Just  ring  me  up,  and  I'll  trundle  you  out  when- 
ever you  say  the  word.  Ag's  right.  You  mustn't 
shut  yourself  up  like  a  nun,  just  because  your  father's 
—  gone.  We  all  know  how  horribly  sad  things  've 
been  for  you,  but,  old  dear,  the  bottom's  just  dropped 


CALLERS  77 

out  of  things  without  you.  Let'<s  make  it  Friday 
at " 

"  But  I  expect  to  be  very  busy  Friday,  and,  in  fact, 
every  day.  There  are  so  many  things  I  have  to  put 
through  before  Cort  gets  back.  It's  less  than  two 
months  now." 

The  significant  glance  that  Bess  and  Agnes  ex- 
changed was  not  lost  on  the  girl  who  was  standing 
on  the  running-board  of  the  roadster,  but  before  she 
could  challenge  its  meaning,  Agnes  had  drawled  out, 
"  I  say,  Chris,  do  be  a  good  fellow,  and  give  us  a  cup 
of  tea.  There  wasn't  a  thing  fit  to  eat  at  the  Club 
to-day,  so  Bess  and  I  cut  lunch,  and  now  I'm  starved." 

"  Me,  too,"  Bess's  tone  made  up  in  fervor  for  lack 
of  grammar.  "  I'm  hungry  as  a  rabbit.  Oh,  Chris  " 
—  she  gave  a  sudden  squeal  of  joy — "do  have  Ka- 
tinka  make  us  some  of  those  delicious  scones.  My 
mouth  fairly  waters  for  a  dozen  or  more  of  those 
beauties." 

"  Katinka's  also  numbered  among  the  missing," 
Christine  announced  from  her  perch  on  the  running- 
board,  as  Agnes  sent  her  car  spinning  up  the  gravel- 
path,  "  but  we'll  manage  to  scare  up  something  for 
you,"  she  declared,  with  more  confidence  than  she  felt. 
Inwardly  she  was  filled  with  dismay.  What  could 
she  serve  her  fastidious  guests,  especially  in  the  ab- 
sence of  Amelia?  Misery  was  willing  but  not  effi- 
cient as  a  waitress,  as  Christine  had  reason  to  remem- 
ber from  her  noon  luncheon.  As  for  herself,  she  had 
never  prepared  a  dish  of  anything  in  all  her  life,  much 
less  served  it.  Wilson  and  Annie  had  always  done 
that.  She  hated  domestic  duties.  Besides,  why  should 
she,  Christine  Trevor,  perform  the  work  of  menials? 


78      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

If  Amelia's  brother  had  only  chosen  some  other  day 
for  his  illness!  But  she  would  die  before  she  would 
betray  by  the  slightest  sign  her  mental  distress. 

She  was  chattering  gaily  as  she  led  the  way  into 
the  living-room.  It  was  a  large  room  running  the 
entire  depth  of  the  house,  and  the  effect  of  apparent 
irregularity  in  the  arrangement  of  its  fittings  gave 
it  a  sense  of  charm.  The  warm  afternoon  sunshine 
streamed  brightly  in  through  the  long  windows  and 
fell  full  upon  great,  cozy  lounging  chairs,  a  huge 
davenport,  and  in  the  center  of  the  room  upon  a 
large,  magnificently  carved,  old  mahogany  table.  The 
appointments  were  practically  the  same  as  when  her 
parents  had  left  it  years  before.  The  sunshine  rested, 
too,  with  kindly  effect  on  the  great  bunches  of  wild 
flowers  on  mantel,  table  and  in  floor-jars  and  struck 
a  note  which  for  the  first  time  arrested  Christine's  at- 
tention. There  was  a  homelike,  living  quality  to  this 
old  room  which  had  been  lacking  in  the  great  elaborate 
Trevor  town-house,  with  its  hangings  of  cobwebby 
lace  and  silk,  its  period-style  furniture  and  priceless 
marbles.  Christine  stood  a  moment,  staring.  She 
wondered  what  it  meant.  But  Agnes'  high-pitched 
voice  recalled  her  wandering  thoughts. 

"If  you  don't  hurry,  Chris,  you'll  have  a  couple  of 
deaders  on  your  hands." 

"  Dead  ones  aren't  in  style  this  year,"  retorted  Chris- 
tine, with  a  flashing  smile  that  covered  a  quaking  heart. 
She  found  the  kitchen  in  perfect  array,  but  deserted. 
There  was  a  waste  of  five  minutes  in  which  she  vainly 
searched  for  Misery.  Her  room,  too,  was  orderly 
but  empty.  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  wailed  the  girl  to  her- 


CALLERS  79 

sdf,  as  she  flew  down  the  back  stairs  to  the  kitchen. 
"  Oh !  "  she  cried  in  fright,  as  she  pulled  open  the 
kitchen-door.  "  Oh,  it's  you,  Laurie.  What  are  you 
doing,  "  she  demanded,  advancing  a  step  or  two  into 
the  room. 

"  It's  almost  time  for  'Melia  to  be  back,  and  she's 
sure  to  have  a  headache  —  trolley-riding  always  makes 
her  head  hurt  —  so  I'm  getting  a  little  lunch  ready," 
he  answered,  without  glancing  ifp  from  his  task  of  slic- 
ing bread. 

"  You,  fixing  a  lunch ! "  Christine's  tone  was  a 
nice  blending  of  emotion. 

The  boy  flushed,  but  he  replied  in  his  quiet  way, 
"  Most  boys  couldn't  or  wouldn't,  I  know,  but  being 
—  lame's  made  me  different.  I  suppose  you  think  I'm 
a  sissy,"  he  flung  out,  with  a  rare  show  of  feeling,  "  but 
I'd  be  a  sissy  ten  times  over  if  I  could  do  one  tiny 
little  thing  for  'Melia." 

"  A  sissy,  no,  rather  an  angel  in  disguise.  I  — 
you  — "  she  stammered  in  unusual  embarrassment,  "  I 
say,  Laurie,  Agnes  Archer  and  Bess  Compton  are 
here,  and  they  want  a  lunch,  and  I  don't  know  a 
blessed  thing  about  cooking,  and  could  you  —  oh,  will 
you  help  me  out  of  my  mess  ?  " 

Laurie's  face  was  shining  as  he  returned  in  an  ex- 
cellent imitation  of  Wilson's  stilted  manner,  "  What 
h'are  your  h'orders,  ma'am?  And  w'ich  service  shall 
I  use,  ma'am?  I  do  be  h'arskin'  your  pardon,  ma'am, 
for  bein'  late,  ma'am,  but  tea'll  be  ready  in  fifteen  min- 
utes, ma'am." 

Laurie  was  as  good  as  his  word.  For  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  under  his  able  direction,  Christine  flew  about 


8o      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

the  kitchen,  assembling  dishes  and  silver  on  the  serv- 
ing-tray while  the  boy  himself  prepared  the  toast  and 
brewed  the  tea. 

"  You're  a  perfect  dear,"  Christine  burst  out,  as 
she  tossed  back  a  tendril  of  golden  hair  from  her 
hot  cheeks;  "it  all  looks  perfectly  delicious."  She 
shouldered  the  tray  which,  in  its  delicate  arrangement 
of  nicely  browned  thin  slices  of  bread,  golden  marma- 
lade, red  jelly  and  flashing  old  tea-service  of  silver, 
would  not  have  disgraced  a  Wilson.  "  And  it's 
every  bit  your  work.  You're  not  tired,  I  hope." 
A  sudden  pang  smote  her  as  she  noted  the  pallor  of 
the  boy's  face  and  the  heavily  shadowed  eyes.  "  I'm 
a  beast  to  let  you  do  all  this  for  me." 

"  I'm  not  tired,"  protested  Laurie,  stoutly.  "  I'm 
going  to  fix  'Melia's  lunch  this  minute,  and  —  and  — 
you  don't  know  how  jolly  it's  been  working  like  this 
with  you.  Oh,  I  say,  though,  you'd  better  hurry,  or 
that  tea'll  be  stone  cold.  'Melia  always  says  I  make 
the  best  cup  of  tea  ever,"  he  added,  with  quaint  pride. 

Agnes  Archer  paid  an  unconscious  tribute  to  the 
boy's  skill  in  tea-brewing  when  some  minutes  later 
she  passed  her  cup  to  Christine  with  the  question,  "  Are 
you  sporting  a  Jap  chef  now?  That's  the  best  cup  of 
tea  I've  had  since  I  was  in  Yokohama  last  spring,  and, 
believe  me,  I  know  a  cup  of  tea  when  it's  tea.  Speak- 
ing of  servants,  how  do  you  like  my  new  coiff  ?  Mar- 
ie's some  jewel,  Chris.  You  must  miss  her  outrage- 
ously." For  an  instant  the  cold  black  eyes  caught 
and  held  the  brown  eyes  with  the  golden  flecks.  But 
Trevor  pride  came  to  Christine's  support.  Not  by  a 
flicker  of  the  eyelids  would  she  betray  that  the  barb 
had  pierced  her  to  the  quick. 


CALLERS  8 1 

"  Oh,  Marie  was  all  right  in  her  way,"  she  retorted 
with  a  light  laugh,  "  but  I  can't  say  that  her  absence 
has  left  me  inconsolable.  After  all,  you  know,  there's 
some  fun  in  giving  your  hair  the  do-up  you  like,  and 
not  always  kow-towing  to  Marie's  taste." 

"  She  is  rather  a  boss,"  admitted  Agnes,  with  evi- 
dent reluctance,  "  but  then  she's  clever  and  awfully 
useful.  Oh,  I  say,  Chris,  wasn't  that  your  twins  we 
saw  up  on  Carter  Road?  Bess  and  I  weren't  dead 
sure,  they  were  so  —  they  didn't  look  exactly  like  that 
good-looking  painting  Huntington  exhibited  in  the 
gallery  last  year,  and  yet,  somehow,  I  got  the  idea  it 
was  Daffy  and  Dilly  that  were  making  mud-pies  in 
the  road." 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  didn't  recognize  them ;  they 
must  be  messy  as  beggars  by  this  time,"  Christine  suc- 
ceeded in  keeping  her  tone  level.  "  I'm  taking-  them 
in  tow,  you  see,  and  I'm  rather  green  at  the  job." 

"  You,"  chorused  her  guests  in  shrill  surprise,  and 
burst  into  shriller  laughter. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Chris,  old  dear,"  hooted  Agnes  mock- 
ingly, "  is  this  a  joke  ?  You  take  care  of  the  twins ! 
That's  the  funniest  ever.  You  could  about  as  well 
teach  a  pair  of  jack-rabbits  to  jump  through  a  hoop 
as  manage  a  couple  of  kids." 

An  answering  little  gleam  of  humor  shot  into  Chris- 
tine's eyes.  "  I  haven't  had  a  whole  world  of  ex- 
perience, I  admit,"  she  replied,  and  to  herself  she  con- 
fessed honestly,  "  nor  much  liking  for  the  job  either, 
but,"  she  added  aloud,  "  they've  been  running  wild 
for  so  long  now  somebody's  got  to  take  them  in  hand, 
and  I  seem  to  be  elected  to  straighten  them  out  for 
Amelia,  before  Cort  gets  back." 


82      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Agnes  and  Bess  both  laughed  again  in  good-natured 
derision.  "  You're  a  queer  card,  Chris.  I'd  be  willing 
to  wager,"  Agnes  declared,  with  her  cock-sureness  of 
manner,  "  you'll  be  putting  them  in  an  orphan  asylum 
before  many  months.  Oh,  there  they  are  now,"  she 
pointed  to  two  little  figures  stealing  up  the  carriage 
drive. 

"  An  orphan  asylum !  Never !  "  Christine's  tone 
suggested  that  the  tension  of  her  nerves  had  tightened 
almost  to  the  breaking-point.  She  threw  open  the 
French  window  and  stepped  out  on  the  veranda,  her 
heart  heavy  with  misgivings.  Defeat  now  would 
make  her  the  laughing-stock  of  her  guests,  and  yet 
how  could  she  expect  anything  but  defeat? 

Suddenly  guests,  defeat,  conquest,  slipped  completely 
from  her  thoughts.  She  saw  only  a  pair  of  very  tired, 
very  dirty,  undoubtedly  very  hungry,  children.  Her 
heart  went  out  to  them  in  a  most  unexpected  fashion. 

"  Daffy,  Dilly,"  she  cried  and  there  was  something 
in  her  voice  that  halted  their  steps  and  made  them 
turn  their  faces  trustingly  to  hers,  "  come  in  and  get 
cleaned  up,  and  I'll  make  you  — "  a  memory  of  child- 
hood's delight  gave  her  sudden  inspiration  — "  the 
nicest  tea-party  you  ever  had.  Bread  and  jam  and 
sugar  so  high."  Her  fingers  and  thumb  measured  at 
least  two  inches. 

"  Goody,  goody,"  shouted  the  young  irrepressibles, 
as  they  loped  like  rabbits  over  the  lawn  kitchen-ward. 

There  was  a  full  moment  of  silence  when  Christine 
stepped  back  into  the  room.  Her  two  guests  stared 
at  her  in  amazement.  Her  face  had  taken  on  a  new 
quality  which  somehow  transfigured  her.  A  peculiar 
light  of  thought  was  wavering  in  her  eyes.  Her  shoul- 


CALLERS  83 

ders  were  well  up  and  she  held  her  gold-crowned  head 
high-poised.  It  was  as  if  she  had  sighted  a  goal  and 
was  making  straight  for  it. 

Agnes  broke  the  silence.  With  a  slight  lift  of  her 
eyebrows  she  observed,  "  We  must  be  trailing  along, 
Bess;  I've  oodles  of  things  to  do.  Did  you  know, 
Chris,  father  and  I  are  sailing  for  South  America 
Saturday?  I  suppose,  though,  Cort's  told  you  all 
about  our  plans  ?  "  Without  pausing  for  an  answer, 
she  babbled  on,  "  Cort  —  that  is,  old  Mr.  Van  Ness 
wanted  us  to  go  from  the  start,  but  father  couldn't 
get  things  in  shape,  you  know,  until  now.  So  the 
Van  Ness  party  have  promised  to  postpone  their  trip 
back  a  month  or  six  weeks  now  that  we're  to  join 
them." 

A  month  or  six  weeks.  The  middle  of  July  or  the 
first  of  August.  How  could  she  bear  the  strain  of 
waiting,  waiting !  The  minutes  and  hours  would  drag 
by,  each  more  interminable  than  the  one  that  had  gone 
before.  Why  had  Cort  kept  all  this  from  her? 

The  world  in  that  instant  reeled  about  her.  She 
felt  dazed,  and  for  the  moment,  robbed  of  the  power 
of  coherent  thought.  Then  again  Trevor  pride  stif- 
fened her.  She  lifted  her  head,  and  her  lips  slowly 
parted  in  a  whimsical  smile.  "  That'll  give  me  more 
time,  and  Heavens  to  Betsy,  I  need  it.  I've  some 
hard  job  on  my  hands  here,  but,  believe  me,  before  I'm 
Mrs.  Cort  Van  Ness,  I'm  going  to  put  it  through." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   SHORT    CHAPTER JUST    A    LETTER    FROM    CORT 

Rain  drumming  determinedly  on  her  windows 
greeted  Christine  the  next  morning.  The  sense  of 
depression  that  her  guests  of  the  previous  afternoon 
had  left  in  their  wake  deepened  at  the  melancholy  of 
the  day.  But  the  handwriting  on  the  letter  that  lay 
at  her  plate  at  the  breakfast-table  brought  a  smile  into 
her  eyes.  It  was  from  Cort.  Eagerly  she  tore  the 
envelope.  The  smile  faded  as  she  read  the  brief 
scrawl. 

"  Dear  Girl, 

"  Rio  Janeiro  is  one  great  place.  The  eats  and  the 
women  are  some  peaches.  Wish  you  were  here. 
Have  you  heard  the  news?  Aggie  Archer  and  her 
dad  are  going  to  join  us.  Some  business  arrange- 
ments of  my  dad's  —  silver-mine  or  something.  That 
means  we'll  not  start  back  until  some  time  in  July,  but 
don't  you  worry,  honey,  there's  a  good  time  coming 
when  you're  Mrs.  Cort. 

"  Dad's  shouting  at  me  for  a  game  of  billiards  — 
So  long,  my  dear  girl.  Perhaps  I'll  drop  you  a  line 
to-night  before  the  ball.  Big  affair  on  here  at  the 
hotel. 

"  Yours  for  keeps, 

"  CORT." 


CHAPTER  IX 

RUNAWAY   TWINS 

Rain  was  still  blurring  the  windows  and  hissing 
sullenly  on  the  soaked  garden  when  Christine  re- 
sponded to  the  luncheon  bell.  The  morning  had  been 
trying.  The  task  she  had  taken  upon  herself  already 
had  begun  to  assume  overwhelming  proportions.  The 
steady  downpour  had  forced  the  twins  to  resort  to 
the  living-room  as  their  playground,  and  all  too  soon 
Christine  found  that  the  streaming  rain  had  not  damp- 
ened their  spirits  as  it  had  hers.  On  the  contrary,  they 
seemed  to  be  keyed  to  the  highest  pitch  of  mischief, 
and  now  and  then  their  shrieks  of  laughter  would  draw 
her  irresistibly  to  the  living-room  door.  Several 
times  in  her  capacity  as  really-truly  sister,  she  had 
been  called  in  to  arbitrate,  and  once  she  had  rudely 
broken  up  the  game  when  she  discovered  Daffy  mas- 
querading as  a  captive  princess  in  a  rose-colored  chif- 
fon party-gown  which  she  had  surreptitiously  snatched 
from  her  sister's  wardrobe. 

Then  Dilly  had  fallen  from  a  pyramid  of  chairs, 
designed  to  act  as  an  aeroplane,  and  in  the  absence 
of  Amelia  who  was  in  the  village  bent  upon  market- 
ing, the  extremely  distasteful  task  of  binding  up  his 
wounds  and  assisting  him  into  fresh  garments  had 
devolved  upon  Christine. 

So  it  was  with  a  weary  sigh  that  the  girl  sank  into 
her  seat  at  the  luncheon-table.  Laurie  was  already 

85 


86      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

in  his  place.  His  face  was  pale,  his  fingers  tensely 
clasped  in  his  lap.  He  and  Christine  had  met  for 
the  first  time  at  the  table.  The  girl  was  too  wrapped 
in  her  own  melancholy  thoughts  to  notice  the  boy's 
silent  misery.  Not  so  the  twins. 

"  Oh  —  oh  —  Laurie,  you  aren't  eating  a  speck  of 
your  salad,  'n'  you  always  love  it,"  presently  observed 
sharp-eyed  Daffy.  "  Can  I  — ?  " 

"  I  bar  half,"  interrupted  Dilly  greedily.     "  You  - 

"  I  asked  first.  You  shan't  have  any.  It's  all 
mine."  The  childish  voices  rose  high  in  dispute. 

"  Daffy,  Dilly,  if  you  don't  stop  that  noise  this  in- 
stant, I'll  send  you  from  the  table,"  Christine  repri- 
manded sharply.  "  I'm  quite  ashamed  of  you.  You 
act  like  two  little  pigs." 

There  was  quiet  all  of  a  moment,  then  tears  streamed 
from  Daffy's  blue  eyes  with  their  pellucid  gaze. 
"  You're  not  a  really-truly  sister  at  all.  You're  noth- 
ing but  a  old  cross-patch,"  she  sobbed. 

"  Leave  the  table,  Daffy,"  exploded  Christine.  All 
the  strain  and  tension  of  the  unending  morning  cul- 
minated in  this  disagreeable  scene.  "  And  stay  in  your 
room  until  I  come." 

Dilly  gazed  in  paralyzed  silence  after  the  weeping 
form  of  his  twin  for  one  brief  second,  then  shouting, 
"  Laurie  can't  eat,  'cause  you  scare  him  into  fits,"  he, 
too,  fled  like  some  wild  thing  from  the  room. 

The  flash  of  anger  in  Christine's  eyes  was  replaced 
by  a  softer  glow  when  she  and  Laurie  were  left  alone. 
"  Is  that  true?  "  she  asked  after  a  painful  silence. 

The  boy  answered  without  raising  his  eyes  from  his 
plate.  "  I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  but  I  know  you  — 
you  don't  like  to  be  where  I  —  am." 


RUNAWAY  TWINS  87 

The  tightly  closed  little  petals  of  Christine's  heart 
quivered  at  the  poignant  grief  in  the  boy's  voice. 

"  Great  Peter,"  she  burst  out,  "  I'm  such  a  selfish 
thing  I  —  I  never  for  a  moment  thought  how  it  might 
hurt  you.  I  was  just  thinking  of  myself.  I'm  begin- 
ning to  realize  I'm  always  thinking  only  about  my- 
self." To  her  intense  annoyance  she  could  not  keep 
her  voice  quite  steady.  "  It's  high  time  I  was  learning 
that  Christine  Trevor  isn't  the  whole  thing,"  she  con- 
fided suddenly,  with  one  of  her  engaging  impulses,  as 
her  thoughts  reverted  to  the  letter  that  she  had  read 
earlier  in  the  morning. 

Laurie's  face  brightened  and  took  on  a  smile  of 
great  charm.  "  You're  pretty  nearly  the  whole  thing 
around  here,  and  —  and — "  he  hesitated,  then  ended 
in  a  rush  of  shyness,  "  it's  going  to  be  mighty  jolly 
having  you  with  us  till  Cort  gets  back.  I  suppose  it's 
selfish  of  me,  but  I've  been  wishing  he'd  let  us  have 
you  a  little  while  longer  than  just  a  few  weeks."  His 
glance  was  an  unconscious  caress. 

She  rose  and  pushed  back  her  chair  with  a  short 
laugh,  "  You  have  your  wish.  Now  I  must  settle  ac- 
counts with  the  twins.  I  can  see  I  let  them  off  too 
easily  yesterday." 

Slowly  she  mounted  the  steps  that  led  to  the  nursery. 
"  It's  beastly,  everything's  beastly,"  she  declared  to 
herself,  in  fierce  self-pity, — "  just  one  miserable  day 
after  the  other.  I'll  be  a  gibbering  idiot  by  the  time 
Cort  gets  back.  Now  for  Miss  Daffy,"  she  braced 
back  her  shoulders  as  if  to  prove  to  herself  her  own 
grim  determination.  "  She's  going  to  stay  in  bed 
this  whole  afternoon,  and  so  is  Mr.  Dilly."  With  a 
firm  hand  she  turned  the  door-knob.  An  empty  room 


88      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

confronted    her.     "  Daffy,"    she    called    imperiously. 

No  childish  treble  answered.  She  banged  open 
Dilly's  door.  There  was  no  sign  of  its  small  occu- 
pant. 

"  Daffy,  Dilly,"  she  raised  her  voice  in  the  white 
heat  of  anger,  as  she  raced  through  the  hall. 
"  Daffy,"  she  shouted  again,  putting  her  bright  head 
in  the  open  doorway  of  the  nursery. 

Amelia's  calm  voice  responded,  "  Isn't  Daffy  in 
her  bedroom,  Christine  ?" 

"  No,  she  isn't,"  snapped  the  girl.  "  But,  believe 
me,  it's  going  hard  with  Miss  Daffy  when  I  find  her. 
I  told  her  to  stay  in  her  room  till  I  came.  She  dis- 
obeyed. I  intended  to  keep  her  in  bed  just  this  after- 
noon. Now  she'll  stay  there  a  whole  wee'k  with  noth- 
ing but  bread  and  water,  and  — " 

"  Tut,  tut,"  the  old  woman  interrupted  the  angry 
tirade.  "  You  can't  handle  children  rough-like  that 
way.  They're  like  flowers.  They've  got  to  have 
lovin' —  up.  Pettin'  and  pretty  words  're  the  same  to 
them  as  God's  sunshine  is  to  flowers." 

But  Christine  was  not  to  be  softened  by  Amelia's 
gentle  philosophy. 

"  What  those  youngsters  need  most  right  now  is 
to  be  made  to  mind.  You're  too  easy  with  them. 
They're  going  to  learn  that  when  I  tell  them  to  do 
a  thing,  they've  got  to  do  it,  or  I'll  know  the  reason 
why.  It's  perfectly  clear  you've  brought  them  up  on 
the  theory  of  '  spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child.' 
They're  spoiled  all  right." 

Amelia  answered  quietly,  without  lifting  her  eyes 
from  the  small  sock  she  was  darning.  "  They're 
nothing  but  babes,  seven  year  old  come  next  January, 


RUNAWAY  TWINS  89 

and  they've  been  motherless  from  the  start  and  now 
no  father,  neither."  A  tear  fell  unheeded  on  her 
handiwork.  "  Between  you  and  I,  Christine,  I  think 
they're  blessed  lambs." 

An  uncomfortable  silence  fell  which  Christine  broke 
with  her  question,  "  Where  do  you  think  they  are, 
'Melia?  You  don't  for  a  minute  suppose  they're  out 
in  this  drenching  rain." 

Amelia's  needle  plied  briskly  back  and  forth  in  the 
rent  in  the  heel  a  moment  before  she  returned,  "  I 
shouldn't  be  a  mite  surprised.  You  see,  I  came  up 
here  to  get  these  socks  mended  for  Dilly  to  put  on  this 
afternoon  — " 

Christine  gave  a  cry  of  surprise.  "  You  don't  mean 
you  haven't  had  your  lunch  yet  ?  " 

Amelia  answered  with  a  shake  of  her  gray  head. 
"  I'm  pretty  busy  these  days  gettin'  things  done. 
'T  ain't  like  it  was  in  the  old  times  with  three  maids 
and  a  laundress  and  what-not  in  the  house,  not  to 
speak  of  Wilson.  But  that's  nothing.  I'd  go  with- 
out every  meal  if  I  could  serve  a  Trevor." 

Christine  drew  a  full  breath.  "  You're  great, 
'Melia.  I  never  realized  — " 

"  It  just  comes  to  me  now,"  interrupted  the  serving- 
woman,  "  that  Dilly  flew  in  here  a  few  minutes  ago, 
a-lookin'  for  his  umbrella.  Like  as  not  he  and  Daffy 
are  slippin'  about  in  puddles  and  Daffy  not  over  her 
cold  yet.  If  that  child  gets  her  feet  wet,  it'll  be  the 
death  of  her  and  her  not  so  very  strong  since  she  came 
down  with  the  whoopin'  cough.  I  must  go  fetch  them 
in  this  minute."  She  was  thinking  now  and  thinking 
aloud. 

"  You  shan't  stir  a  step  till  you've  had  your  lunch," 


90 

declared  Christine,  with  the  insistence  characteristic 
of  her.  "  I'll  have  Misery  bring  you  a  tray  here,  and 
I  — •  I'll  go  on  a  still  hunt  for  those  imps  myself." 

"  You  —  you,  Christine !  "  Amelia's  tone  of  in- 
credulous astonishment  brought  a  quick  red  into  the 
young  cheeks.  "  You  that  don't  like  rain  no  more 
than  a  kitty-cat.  That's  unexpected  good  of  you. 
It'd  save  me  no  end  of  time  with  all  that  mendin'  not 
yet  done  if  you  would,  though.  But  don't  have  me 
no  tray  brought  up.  Mrs.  Ray's  up  to  her  ears  now 
in  kitchen-work.  I'll  slip  down  for  a  bite  as  soon  as 
I  hear  Laurie  say  his  history-lesson." 

Christine  shivered  involuntarily  as  she  stepped  out 
into  a  world  prisoned  in  rain.  It  was  a  whirling 
storm,  driven  now  and  then  into  sheets  of  rain  by 
gusts  of  wind  which  held  all  the  fury  of  a  winter 
gale.  And  how  she  abhorred  darkness  and  rain! 

A  perfect  wild-goose  chase  she  told  herself  grum- 
blingly,  when  she  had  raced  through  the  grounds  and 
barn  without  success.  Now  where?  For  the  per- 
ceptible space  of  a  moment  she  stood  and  surveyed  the 
wet,  deserted  reaches  of  pavement.  Then  clutching 
her  dripping  umbrella  with  both  hands  to  defy  the 
assault  of  the  wind,  she  marched  determinedly  down 
the  street. 

At  the  corner  a  furious  slash  of  wind  caught  and 
spun  her  half-way  about.  An  umbrella  held  shield- 
wise  bunted  her  umbrella  with  vicious  force. 

"  Oh,"  she  gasped,  trying  to  extricate  her  head  from 
the  ruins. 

"  N-now  s-see  what  I've  d-done,  awkward  b-brute," 
stammered  a  voice  in  panicky  fright.  "I  —  h-hope 


RUNAWAY  TWINS  91 

I  haven't  h-hurt  you."  The  troubled  eyes  of  Douglas 
Barton  were  gazing  into  hers.  "  Oh,  it's  you,"  his  face 
broke  into  a  delighted  smile  of  recognition.  "  Y-you'll 
begin  to  t-think  I've  designs  on  your  life.  This  is  the 
s-second  t-time  I've  b-been  on  the  r-reception  c-com- 
mittee  to  meet  you." 

"I'm  all  here,"  Christine  laughed  with  a  note  of 
gaiety,  "  but  it's  a  watery  grave  for  my  poor  um- 
brella." With  the  straight,  sure  aim  of  a  boy  she 
tossed  the  broken  frame  into  a  streaming  gutter.  She 
struck  the  moisture  from  the  curly  tendrils  of  hair 
which  strayed  like  wet  gold  from  her  close-fitting  rain- 
proof hat. 

"  That's  an  o-outrage,"  stuttered  the  young  man, 
scarlet  to  the  eyebrows.  "  Y-you  must  t-take 
m-rnine." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  Christine  protested  vigor- 
ously. "  I'm  water-proof  from  head  to  foot,  besides, 
I've  no  very  important  business,  just  the  official  tracer 
of  runaway  twins." 

He  gave  her  a  rather  startled  look.  "  Do  you  know 
I  had  a  h-hunch  those  kids  were  c-cutting.  I  saw  them 
on  the  dead  run  about  a  half -hour  ago.  The  little 
g-girl  had  an  umbrella  and  the  boy  was  d-dragging  a 
satchel  almost  as  big  as  himself.  It  made  me  think 
of  a  wretched  black  day  centuries  ago  when  I  beat 
it  from  Uncle  Joshua " —  a  shade  of  melancholy 
clouded  his  boyish  face  for  an  instant  — "  and  the 
torture  he  put  me  through  when  I  was  found  and 
brought  b-back,"  he  added,  barely  above  his  breath; 
then  he  said  aloud,  "  That  r-reminds  me,  I'm  headed 
for  the  d-drug-store  —  s-some  medicine  for  Uncle 


92     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Joshua,  one  of  his  b-bad  days,  you  know.  So,  if 
you'll  please  t-take  my  umbrella,  I'll  d-duck  for  the 
street-car  and — " 

"  Most  certainly  not.  This  rain  means  business. 
It's  not  going  to  stop.  You'll  be  soaked  to  the  skin  " 

—  her  eyes  were  warm  with  friendliness  — "  and  I'll 
not  be  responsible  for  your  sudden  death." 

"  Not  much  1-loss  to  anyone,"  he  mumbled,  with  a 
bitterness  that  startled  her.  "  Well,  then,  if  you'll  let 
me  escort  you  to  the  d-drug-store,  I  can  s-step  into  the 
c-car  from  there  and  land  at  the  d-door  of  the  bank 
dry  as  a  nail,  and  you  take  the  umbrella  for  your 
s-search." 

So  it  was  settled,  and  side  by  side  they  moved 
companionably  under  the  same  rain-shield  down  the 
street. 

"Your  car  laid  up?"  There  was  mischief  in  the 
brown  eyes  with  the  dancing  specks  of  gold. 

He  shook  his  head  ruefully.  "  The  hospitals'd  be 
working  overtime  if  I  d-drove  on  a  s-skiddy  day  like 
this.  Some  d-day  I'll  hurt  s-somebody,  and  then 
good-bye  to  my  ever  d-driving  again,  Miss  Trevor." 

"  Tommyrot !  You're  like  all  new  drivers,  nervous 
as  a  witch.  I  felt  like  that  myself  at  first,  but  now 

—  oh,  it's  easy  as  breathing,  and  the  sense  of  power 
it  gives  you,  the  little  thrilly  feelings  that  run  up  and 
down  your  spine  — "  she  broke  off  a  bit  tremulously. 
She  was  fairly  hungry  to  have  her  hands  again  on 
the  steering-wheel. 

A  silence  was  maintained  for  a  long  minute,  then 
she  started  on  a  new  tack.  "  I  gather  you  told  your 
uncle  all  about  our  little  chance  meeting?"  The 
animation  of  curiosity  was  in  her  voice. 


RUNAWAY  TWINS  93 

A  slow  color  mounted  to  his  forehead.  "  I  never 
tell  Uncle  Joshua  anything  —  personal." 

Came  the  next.question :  "  Then  please  tell  me  how 
the  lamb  happened  to  call  me  Christine  when  he  so 
politely  invited  me  out  of  his  grounds?" 

"  No,  not  that !  "  Excitement  made  the  umbrella 
wobble,  and  sent  a  rivulet  trickling  down  the  girl's 
neck.  "  He  c-couldn't  have  been  so  r-rude."  His 
voice  was  vibrant  with  feeling.  "If  he  were  younger 
and  —  and  —  a  man  " —  unconsciously  his  hand 
clenched— "I'd  — I'd— " 

"  But  being  something  of  a  relative  and  a  cripple, 
you  can't,"  cut  in  the  girl  impatiently,  then  harked 
back  to  her  question,  "  But  how  did  he  know  my 
name?" 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully  without  seeing  her. 
"  That's  just  p-part  of  the  mystery  of  Uncle  Joshua. 
He  never  l-leaves  home.  He  never  t-talks  with  any- 
one but  his  man  and  me,  and  then  only  when  he  has 
an  order  to  g-give  or  a  b-business  matter  to  arrange, 
and  yet  now  and  then,  it  c-crops  out  that  he  knows 
everything  that's  g-going  on.  I  —  oh,  I  say,"  he  in- 
terrupted himself,  "  if  there  isn't  Freddy  Blue." 

Even  while  she  waved  a  greeting  to  the  tall,  athletic- 
looking  young  woman  in  a  shabby  waterproof  and 
cap  who  was  swinging  across  the  street  with  a  big 
easy  stride,  Christine  shot  a  glance  at  him.  There 
was  an  indescribable  something  in  his  voice  that  moved 
her  oddly.  He  was  smiling  the  smile  of  a  happy  boy. 

From  Freddy's  face,  too,  a  sudden  brightness  flamed, 
but  it  had  completely  vanished  when  she  halted  be- 
fore them. 

"  My  usual   rendezvous,   the   drug-store,"   she   re- 


94      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

sponded  soberly  to  the  young  man's  question,  flourish- 
ing a  bottle  of  medicine.  "  Teddy  had  a  terror  of 
a  night."  She  drew  a  prodigiously  deep  breath. 

Douglas  made  a  helpless  gesture.  "  You're  w-wear- 
ing  yourself  to  a  f-frazzle.  If  only  you'd  let  me — " 

There  was  a  rise  of  color  in  Freddy's  cheeks  as  she 
put  out  her  hand  to  silence  him.  There  followed  a 
moment's  pause  in  which  she  looked  down  at  him 
with  a  troubled  gaze.  "  I  must  be  on  my  way,"  she 
said,  in  her  deep,  throaty  voice,  and  turned  abruptly 
away. 

"  Want  a  caller  ?  "  laughed  Christine,  catching  the 
other  girl's  hand.  She  had  been  silent  since  the  first 
interchange  of  greetings. 

Fredericka  halted  her  steps.  Her  odd,  honest,  gray- 
green  eyes  wandered  over  Christine's  face  with  a  curi- 
ous expression.  It  was  as  if  she  were  trying  to  ap- 
praise the  striking  beauty  which  the  girl  carried  with 
such  perfect  unconsciousness.  "  Yes,  if  you're  the 
caller.  I've  still  a  few  errands  to  do,  but  I'll  be  back 
in  a  half-hour.  I  must;  I've  a  week's  mending  to  do 
this  afternoon,"  she  ended,  more  to  herself  than  the 
others. 

"Isn't  she  a  peach?"  Christine  demanded  of  her 
companion.  "  She's —  "  Something  in  the  intentness 
of  the  gaze  with  which  he  was  following  that  straight, 
hurrying  figure  checked  her. 

"  Y-yes,"  he  acquiesced,  but  without  any  fervor. 
"  She's  so  c-changed  though  these  d-days,  I  hardly 
know  her.  W-why,  my  fur  and  whiskers,  Freddy 
Blue's  been  my  stand-by  ever  since  I  was  a  wee  t-tad. 
She  found  me  at  the  s-station,  that  first  day,  crying 
like  a  lost  soul,  because  Uncle  Joshua'd  forgotten  to 


RUNAWAY  TWINS  95 

send  for  me,  and,  believe  me,  I'll  never  forget  how 
that  little  s-strip  of  a  g-girl  mothered  me,  and  she's 
been  mothering  ever  since —  That  is,  till  a  few 
weeks  ago  —  and  I  can't  t-think  what  under  the 
c-canopy's  got  into  her.  Oh,  I  say,  though,  forgive 
me  for  this  s-sob-story,  only  I  just  had  to  get  it  off 
my  chest  or  explode." 

"  This  is  the  parting  of  our  ways."  Christine  eyed 
him  thoughtfully  as  he  prepared  to  leave  her  at  the 
drug-store.  "  Perhaps  some  day  I  can  solve  the  mys- 
tery of  the  change  in  Freddy  Blue.  It  takes  a  woman 
to  understand  a  woman,  you  know,"  she  flung  laugh- 
ingly over  her  shoulder. 

He  shook  his  head  dubiously.  "  They  surely  are 
b-beyond  the  k-ken  of  mere  man.  Sometimes  I'm 
of  the  opinion  that  a  woman  doesn't  understand  even 
herself." 

With  this  Parthian  shot,  and  a  friendly  smile  and 
lift  of  the  hat,  he  left  her  to  pursue  her  way. 

For  a  half-hour  or  more  Christine  plodded  up  and 
down  the  streets,  eyes  alert  for  a  sign  of  the  twins. 
With  the  pertinacity  that  was  a  strong  part  of  her 
nature  she  searched  every  possible  and  impossible  ave- 
nue of  escape.  Then  the  comforting  thought  came 
that  by  this  time  they  had  probably  sought  shelter 
from  the  driving  rain  under  Amelia's  friendly  wing. 

As  for  herself,  she  was  tired,  bedraggled.  She 
would  drift  into  Freddy  Blue's  for  a  short  gossip,  then 
she  would  pull  herself  together  for  the  unpleasant 
duty  of  disciplining  those  young  offenders. 

Tommy  Blue  answered  her  knock  at  the  cottage 
door  and  in  response  to  a  polite  inquiry  for  the  old- 
est sister,  promptly  informed  her  with  eager-eyed 


96     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

importance,  "  Freddy's  gone.     She  won't  be  back  for 
ever  and  ever  so  long." 

Christine  turned  on  her  a  wide-eyed  stare.  "  Gone  ? 
Why,  she  said  she'd  be  home  — " 

"  Uh  —  huh,  she  got  home  and  was  mending  away 
when  he  came  and  she  went  off  in  his  automobile,"  she 
concluded  triumphantly.  It  evidently  was  a  rare  event 
for  a  member  of  the  Blue  family  to  ride  in  an  auto- 
mobile, and  Tommy  appeared  to  bask  in  reflected 
glory. 

On  the  sidewalk  again,  Christine  considered  the 
situation.  What  did  it  mean?  Freddy  Blue  had  ap- 
peared to  welcome  the  prospect  of  her  visit  —  indeed 
had  declared  that  she  had  an  entire  afternoon's  mend- 
ing before  her  —  and  now  she  had  slipped  away  on 
a  jaunt  that  would  last,  at  the  least,  for  several 
hours. 

Christine's  mind  groped  for  a  moment,  then  she 
had  it.  Freddy  was  in  love  with  the  owner  of  the 
automobile.  That  would  tally  perfectly  with  her 
changed  attitude  towards  her  old  playfellow,  Douglas 
Barton.  Poor  Douglas ! 

Suddenly  she  made  a  sharp  exclamation,  and  her 
heart  beat  painfully.  A  car  was  moving  slowly 
around  the  corner  not  a  dozen  feet  away.  The  man 
at  the  wheel  was  lowering  a  misty  window.  She 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  occupants  of  the  cab. 

Freddy  Blue  was  talking  with  a  pretty  animation. 
Her  companion's  laugh  rang  out.  Christine  knew  that 
laugh.  It  could  always  send  answering  bubbles  of 
merriment  along  her  veins.  It  was  Dr.  Denton's 
laugh. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   ACCIDENT 

When  strongly  stirred  by  emotion,  it  was  Chris- 
tine's first  impulse  to  run,  to  run  anywhere,  as  if  to 
get  away  from  herself;  so  now  she  fell  into  a  run- 
ning pace,  and  ran  fast,  but  without  conscious  effort. 
Her  thoughts,  too,  were  racing  riotously  as  she  sped 
along  through  the  rain.  Of  course,  Freddy  loved 
Docky.  How  could  she  help  it?  With  a  sudden 
flash  of  realization  that  it  was  an  image  of  frequent 
recurrence,  she  visualized  the  tall  figure  with  its  fine 
athleticism,  the  deep-set  gray  eyes  so  remarkable  for 
clarity  and  steadiness  of  gaze,  the  square  jaw,  the  mo- 
bile mouth  with  its  hint  of  humor. 

And  what  a  nobly  proportioned  woman  Freddy  was ! 
Somehow,  she  was  indissolubly  associated  in  Chris- 
tine's mind  with  children.  There  was  that  in  the 
wide,  candid  gaze,  the  purity  of  forehead,  the  brood- 
ing sweetness  of  the  face  tfiat  suddenly  brought  to 
her  mind  the  maternal  tenderness  of  a  Raphael  Ma- 
donna. 

But  the  question  that  teased  her,  the  question  that 
would  not  answer  itself  to  her  satisfaction  was,  did 
Dr.  Denton  reciprocate  Freddy's  love?  Suppose  he 
did?  Indeed,  what  concern  was  it  of  hers?  In  a 
few  weeks  now  she  would  be  Mrs.  Cortland  Van  Ness, 
the  leader  of  the  younger  social  set,  and  consequently 
in  a  wholly  different  sphere.  She  should  probably 

97 


98     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

never  see  Freddy  Blue  again,  even  if  she  were  Dr. 
Denton's  wife.  Dr.  Denton's  wife!  Dr.  Denton's 
wife!  Her  mind  caught  and  repeated  the  phrase. 
What  a  wife  she  would  make  him,  what  a  help- 
mate of  his  joys  and  sorrows!  What  an  aid  in  his 
noble  work! 

The  thought  came  that  her  life  as  Cort's  wife  would 
lack  the  richness  of  experience,  the  rapturous  heights 
and  depths,  the  service  of  love,  the  inexplicable  joy 
of  giving  and  receiving,  that  would  be  the  lot  of  Dr. 
Denton's  life-partner,  and  she  felt  a  thrill  of  pain. 

She  pulled  herself  together.  Was  she  being  dis- 
loyal even  in  thought  to  Cort?  She  set  her  teeth  and 
with  an  effort  banished  the  teasing  picture  of  those 
two  in  the  cab.  Forcibly  she  tried  to  fill  her  mind  with 
memories  of  Cort, —  his  handsome,  gypsy  face,  topped 
by  an  abundance  of  curly  black  hair  which  she  de- 
lighted to  pull,  the  boyish  roughness  of  his  devotion, 
the  thrilling  delight  of  being  dancing-mate  to  him  who 
rivaled  a  professional  in  eccentricity  and  original 
grace.  Speed  the  time  when  she  should  be  Mrs.  Cort ! 
She  would  write  him  that  very  afternoon  to  cut  his 
trip  short  —  why  need  he  wait  to  return  by  way  of 
the  yacht?  —  she  would  hold  him  to  his  promise  of 
a  middle-of-June  wedding.  There  was  nothing  to 
keep  her  here.  Her  spirits  began  to  soar  again. 

She  experienced  an  abrupt  change  of  mood,  how- 
ever, when  Amelia's  terror-wrung  face  confronted 
her  at  the  entrance  to  the  Trevor  grounds.  "  Hain't 
you  found  them  yet,  neither,  Christine?"  she  wrung 
her  hands  in  distress,  "  Look  how  dark  it's  gettin', 
and  those  babies  out  in  this  drench.  God,  it'll  be  the 
death  of  them,  and  what'll  I  say  to  your  mother  when 


THE  ACCIDENT  99 

I  face  her  in  heaven?  I  promised  I'd  tend  up  her 
little  ones  to  my  last  breath." 

Christine  glanced  about.  She  had  not  noticed  be- 
fore how  swiftly  the  night  was  coming  on.  Already 
it  was  beginning  to  show  black  under  the  huge  oak 
which  afforded  them  a  temporary  shelter  from  the 
unceasing  storm. 

"  There,  there,  'Melia.  You  mustn't  worry  like 
that.  You'll  make  yourself  ill.  I'll  start  out  now, 
and  hunt  them  up  in  good  earnest,  and  I'll  have  them 
back  before  dinner-time."  Under  the  stimulus  of 
Amelia's  unusual  excitement,  Christine  took  charge 
of  the  affair  in  a  cool  matter-of-fact  manner  which 
hid  her  growing  uneasiness. 

At  the  street-corner  she  stood  for  a  moment  ir- 
resolutely. Should  she  climb  into  the  street-car  and 
search  for  the  twins  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  old 
home?  While  she  hesitated,  fate  seemed  to  decide 
for  her. 

A  street-car  was  bounding  over  the  rails  less  than  a 
dozen  yards  away.  She  stepped  into  the  road.  The 
purr  of  a  powerful  motor  sounded  on  the  rain-muffled 
air,  and  the  next  instant  brilliant  headlights  blinded 
her  and  sent  her  scudding  back  on  the  curb.  She 
uttered  a  sudden  explosive  "  wop  "  as  the  street-car 
janglingly  rounded  the  corner  and  sped  down  the 
track. 

The  motor-car  suddenly  slanted  to  the  curb.  "  That 
you,  Christine  ? "  cried  a  voice  which  even  in  the 
dark  instantly  suffused  her  face  with  color. 

"You,  Docky!     Oh,  what  luck!     Could  you—?" 

"  Hop  in,"  he  interrupted,  throwing  open  the  cab- 
door.  "  I've  just  come  from  your  house.  Amelia 


ioo     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

told  me  of  the  disappearance  of  the  twins.  Now, 
don't  worry,  Goldilocks;  we'll  have  them  back  in 
no  time." 

She  sprang  into  the  seat  beside  him  with  a  little 
shiver  that  was  plainly  a  mixture  of  rapture  and  fear. 

"If  anything's  happened  to  them,  it's  all  my  fault." 
She  spoke  with  an  odd,  choked  utterance. 

"  Nonsense.  Children  always  have  to  have  one  or 
two  experiences  of  running  away.  It's  only  that  they 
chose  a  beastly  day,  and  Daffy's  still  troubled  with  that 
cough,  but  we'll  put  her  to  bed  and  cozen  her  up  and 
to-morrow  morning  she'll  be  fine  as  silk."  He  could 
tell  from  her  outline  as  she  sat  with  her  head  dropped 
back  against  the  leather  cushion  that  every  faculty 
was  strained  with  fright. 

"You're  such  a  comfort.  I  feel  —  better  —  al- 
ready," she  murmured,  in  vague  response.  She  was 
wondering  why  she  had  never  before  noticed  there 
was  more  music  in  his  voice  than  in  any  other  voice 
she  had  ever  heard.  "  I'm  calling  myself  all  kinds 
of  names  for  driving  those  babies  out  into  the  rain," 
she  went  on,  speaking  as  if  it  were  a  relief  to  give 
expression  to  her  wretched  thoughts,  "  and  just  day 
before  yesterday  I  was  pluming  myself  before  Agnes 
Archer  and  Bess  Compton  about  what  a  success  I 
was  going  to  make  running  things  here.  Ag  was 
right.  The  twins  would  be  a  heap  better  off  in  an 
orphan  asylum." 

From  the  moment  he  had  started  the  motor  he  had 
been  heading  northward  for  the  city.  Now  he  was 
flashing  his  lights  off  and  on  to  steer  safely  through 
a  narrow  way  where  a  steep  road  opened  up.  A  mo- 


THE  ACCIDENT  101 

ment  came  and  went  before  he  spoke,  and  then  it  was 
in  a  tone  that  was  tinged  with  whimsicality. 

"  An  orphan  asylum  for  the  twins !  You'd  have  to 
bury  Amelia  first,  and  after  that  you'd  have  me  to 
reckon  with.  You  know  you  Trevor  young  folks  are 
something  more  to  me  than  mere  wards."  He  rested 
his  ungloved  hand  for  an  instant  on  her  fingers  which 
lay  interlaced  in  her  lap.  A  curious  breathlessness 
came  over  her  at  his  touch. 

"  I  wish,"  she  said,  a  brightness  leaping  into  her 
eyes  at  the  very  thought,  "  you  were  a  real  relative. 
We  haven't  any,  you  know,  and  sometimes  I  think  it 
would  be  right  pleasant  to  have  some  boy-cousins  or  a 
half-dozen  uncles:" 

He  switched  on  the  dimmers  as  a  roadster  came 
skimming  up  the  hill. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  too  old  to  be  a  boy-cousin,  but  I 
flatter  myself  I  could  do  the  role  of  the  half-dozen 
elderly  uncles." 

"I  didn't  say  elderly,"  she  pouted.  "Oh!" 
There  was  a  sudden  little  catching  in  her  breath,  as  he 
steered  his  machine  through  a  huge  stone  gateway  sur- 
mounted by  lions  couchant.  "  You're  going  here?  " 

"  Here "  was  the  brilliantly  lighted  replica  of  a 
Tudor  castle  that  but  a  few  weeks  before  had  been 
her  home. 

He  touched  her  hand  again  with  a  little  wordless 
sound  of  sympathy,  and  again  that  curious  thrill  ran 
through  her. 

"  The  little  beggars  have  probably  strayed  back 
like  a  couple  of  lost  puppies  to  their  old  friend  Tom." 
He  brought  the  car  to  a  standstill  before  the  massive 


102      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

fagade.  "  You  know,  the  Wintons  kept  on  your 
gardener  and  Wilson,  in  fact,  pretty  nearly  your  whole 
outfit." 

A  spasm  of  pain  caught  her  heart  as  from  her 
shadowy  cab-corner  she  watched  him  leap  up  the  steps. 
What  an  alluring  vision  of  home!  What  memories 
tugged  at  her  heart-strings !  She  had  a  deepening  be- 
lief that  it  was  all  an  unpleasant  dream  from  which 
she  should  presently  awake  and  find  herself  back  in  her 
exquisitely  appointed  room  and  her  father  would  soon 
be  stepping  from  his  limousine  and  — 

Her  eyes  held  a  glint  of  tears  when  Dr.  Denton  made 
his  way  back  into  the  motor-car.  "  They're  not  here," 
he  said,  with  his  foot  on  the  starter ;  "  Wilson's  posi- 
tive they've  not  been  anywhere  around  or  he'd  surely 
have  heard.  He  was  always  a  prime  favorite  with 
Daffy—" 

A  little  inarticulate  sound  of  misery  escaped  Chris- 
tine. 

"  But,"  he  went  on  reassuringly,  "  I've  the  best 
kind  of  a  hunch  they're  having  a  high  old  time  this 
very  minute  in  Tom's  cottage." 

Not  another  word  was  spoken  as  he  shot  through 
the  gate.  Once  on  the  road  where  Tom's  cottage 
stood  he  speeded  up,  and  on  and  on  they  went.  The 
rain  had  stopped  now,  and  the  wind  whistled  in  the 
gap  in  the  wind-shield,  and  now  and  then  sent  a  spray- 
like  shower  of  muddy  water  into  their  faces. 

"If  only  they're  here,"  Christine  prayed  aloud, 
when  the  headlights  flashed  in  a  quick  circle  on  the 
clumps  of  bushes  behind  which  nestled  the  gardener's 
cottage. 

Dr.  Denton  was  whistling  cheerfully  when  he  came 


THE  ACCIDENT  103 

back  to  her.  "  We'll  find  them  yet,"  was  his  an- 
swer to  the  questioning  misery  in  her  eyes.  She  shook 
her  head  with  a  gesture  of  despair,  but  in  spite  of  her- 
self, his  calm  certainty  made  a  feeling  of  comfort 
pour  into  her  heart. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  paused  thoughtfully,  one  foot 
on  the  running-board,  "  I've  a  notion  to  run  you  out 
home,  and  continue  the  chase  alone.  There  are  —  er 

—  several  places  I  can  think  of  where  I  might  find 
them,  and — " 

"  The  hospital  — "  she  interrupted,  divining  his 
meaning  with  her  quick  intuition.  Her  lips  trembled 
and  her  heart  stumbled  in  her  breast.  "  Not  that,  not 
that,"  she  breathed. 

"  We  won't  even  consider  the  possibility  of  the 
hospital  right  now,"  he  spoke  with  an  air  of  finality, 
"  but  they  may  have  been  picked  up  by  a  policeman 
and  turned  in  to  one  of  the  station  houses.  I  say, 
Christine,  would  you  be  willing  to  drive  back?"  this 
in  an  indifferent  tone  which  something  in  his  eyes 
denied.  "  I've  had  a  rather  full  day,  and  I  may  have 
to  operate  again  before  midnight  —  a  bad  street-car 
accident  out  on  the  Morton  Road." 

Her  face  was  illumined  quite  as  though  an  inner 
flame  were  kindling  the  scarlet  in  her  cheeks  and  the 
brightness  in  her  eyes.  "Will  I?  I'd  —  just  —  love 

—  it."     The  words  were  broken  by  a  sob  of  rapture. 
"  Fire  away,  then,"  he  commanded  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  tone,  but  he,  too,  was  shining-eyed  when  he  slipped 
into  the  seat  which  she  promptly  vacated. 

Her  foot  touched  the  starter,  and  away  they  flashed. 
On  and  on  they  spun  through  streets  with  sharp 
shadows  lying  across  the  gleaming  wet  stretches  of 


io4     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

asphalt,  until  they  swerved  into  the  Antler  Road  with 
its  windings  and  turns  that  showed  water  and  woods 
and  hill.  When  she  spoke  it  was  to  whisper  with  a 
little  tremble  in  her  voice,  "  It's  perfectly  thrilly.  I'd 
forgotten  it  was  such  paradise.  Oh,  if  I  only  knew 
the  twins  were  safe  I'd  be  in  the  seventh  or  eighth 
heaven  now." 

"  Easy  there,"  he  said  to  her  once  when  a  great 
touring  car  flew  past  them,  sheering  so  close  that  it 
seemed  as  if  they  must  collide. 

Obediently  she  slowed  down,  but  soon  her  spirits 
soared  dizzily  again  and  she  was  racing  madly  ahead. 
She  had  the  curious  consciousness  of  being  two  dis- 
tinct selves,  one  whose  every  fibre  responded  to  the 
sharp  sense  of  freedom  that  came  in  guiding  the 
wheel  in  the  rush  through  the  night  air,  the  other 
with  every  nerve  tense,  alert,  on  edge  with  fear  of 
some  mishap  to  the  twins. 

Overhead  the  wrack  of  clouds  shifted  at  a  sudden 
sweep  of  the  winds,  and  a  silvery  moon-plaque  swam 
into  view.  The  road  ahead  turned  into  a  solid  sheet 
of  light.  To  Christine  the  whole  world  seemed  bathed 
in  magic  and  for  the  moment  her  heart  flowed  quite 
out  of  her  as  she  reveled  in  the  feeling  of  swift-flying 
through  a  path  of  silvery  silence.  Then  her  fears 
fell  upon  her  again. 

"  The  twins  were  up  the  Carter  Road  yesterday. 
Ag  Archer  and  Bess  Compton  happened  on  them,"  she 
ventured  in  a  queer,  tense  voice,  as  the  car  slid  along 
towards  a  fork  in  the  road. 

"  Second  turn  to  your  left.  Go  easy,  though ;  Car- 
ter Road's  narrow  and  rutty." 

Slowly  the  car  moved  forward.     Both  pairs  of 


THE  ACCIDENT  105 

eyes  were  straining  into  the  woods  that  lined  their 
path  on  either  side.  Once  Christine  stopped  the  en- 
gine, and  called  eagerly.  It  was  only  a  bush  on  the 
road's  edge  that  had  misled  her.  There  was  no  an- 
swering voice,  only  a  strange  music  that  welled  out  of 
the  night's  darkness.  On  all  sides  sounded  the  boom- 
ing of  frogs  from  a  near-by  pond  or  marsh,  and 
piercingly  sweet  the  singing  of  the  little  creatures  of 
the  woods  assailed  their  ears. 

"That's  Red  Mill  Pond,"  he  nodded  toward  a 
small  sheet  of  water  on  which  the  moon  glancing 
through  the  pine  trees  cast  a  pale  shimmer.  "  The 
next  bend  in  the  road  will  bring  you  to  Overton  Lane. 
Please  turn  up  there.  I  must  see  Freddy  Blue  before 
I  drop  you  off  at  your  house." 

Even  while  she  marveled  at  the  sweetness  in  his 
voice  as  he  pronounced  the  girl's  name,  she  was  sur- 
prised at  the  pain  in  her  heart.  For  all  of  a  minute 
her  vision  blurred,  but  she  managed  to  keep  a  firm 
hand  on  the  wheel,  and  under  her  steady  wrist  the 
car  went  hurtling  onward. 

The  little  night-creatures  were  still  piping  their 
lays,  but  no  longer  would  it  have  been  music  in  her 
ears,  had  she  heard  them.  She  heard  only  the  plaint 
in  her  own  heart,  "  Docky  lovest  Freddy.  Docky 
loves  Freddy." 

A  minute,  two,  three  went  by,  then,  "  I  do  hope 
you're  going  to  be  very  happy,"  she  stammered  with 
real  emotion,  and  to  her  surprise  her  lashes  grew 
misty  with  tears. 

"  Happy,"  he  repeated,  his  lips  slowly  parting  in  an 
odd,  whimsical  smile.  "  Life's  too  full,  too  com- 
plex for  me  ever  to  take  time  to  find  out  whether 


io6      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

I'm  happy.  But  thank  you,  child,  all  the  same  for 
your  wish.  Yes,"  he  mused,  as  though  a  new  thought 
had  presented  itself,  "  a  dream  that's  filled  my  waking 
and  sleeping  hours  for  the  past  year  has  been  real- 
ized, and  it's  going  to  be  a  great,  glorious  thing,"  he 
exulted,  throwing  back  his  head,  and  drawing  a  deep 
breath  of  content,  "  I  ought  to  be,  I  am,  the  happiest 
man  in  this  little  old  world  to-night." 

The  memory  of  Freddy's  face  as  she  had  glimpsed 
it  that  afternoon  in  Dr.  Denton's  cab,  that  vivid,  eager- 
eyed  face,  presented  itself  unbidden  to  Christine. 

"  Freddy  seemed  happy,  too,  when  I  saw  her  driving 
with  you  this  afternoon,"  she  murmured,  following 
her  own  thoughts.  "  She  has  a  perfectly  adorable 
smile,"  she  added,  with  apparent  irrelevance. 

"  Freddy  Blue  always  brings  to  my  mind  a  saying 
of  old  Gautama  Buddha,  '  Sweeter  than  the  scent  of 
sandalwood  is  the  perfume  of  noble  acts.' ' 

Dimly  Christine  was  conscious  that  he  was  saying 
more  words  in  praise  of  his  companion  of  the  after- 
noon, but  for  a  moment  or  two,  the  world  grew  so  far 
away  that  she  could  neither  see  nor  hear.  She  could 
only  feel.  Again  came  the  shock  of  surprise  at  the 
queer  pain  around  her  own  heart. 

A  sudden  recklessness  seized  her.  She  threw  the 
car  into  top  speed,  and  in  a  mad  haste  slashed  around 
a  precipitate  curve.  Unexpectedly  she  struck  a  bad 
stretch  of  road  which  sent  her  skidding  into  deep  mud. 
The  machine  slewed  around.  The  next  instant  a 
piercing  scream  shattered  the  night-silence,  and  a 
broken  body  had  been  flung  across  the  road. 

Christine  never  was  able  to  reconstruct  in  memory 
what  immediately  followed.  All  she  vaguely  remem- 


THE  ACCIDENT  107 

bered  was  that  for  a  moment  everything  seemed  to  go 
black  before  her  eyes,  and  all  action  of  mind  and  body 
was  as  if  paralyzed,  that  she  sat  there  in  frozen  horror 
for  what  seemed  to  be  the  stretch  of  a  century  until 
Dr.  Denton  hurried  back. 

"  You  must  help,"  his  quiet  voice  seemed  to  come 
from  afar  off.  A  minute  passed,  another,  and  still 
she  stared  at  him,  her  body  stretched  taut,  her  eyes 
torn  open  wide. 

"  You  must  help,"  he  said  again,  with  the  same 
quiet  voice.  "  It's  —  Daffy  —  that's  hurt,  and  Dilly's 
lying  on  the  roadside  in  a  faint." 


CHAPTER  XI 

CHRISTINE    TURNS    A    CORNER 

At  midnight  Christine  was  still  sitting  bolt  upright 
in  bed,  staring  with  wide-eyes  into  the  memory-haunted 
darkness.  For  the  hundredth  time,  now,  she  was  liv- 
ing over  every  detail  of  the  accident  which  persistently 
filled  her  mind.  She  could  hear  the  whispering  of  a 
voice,  a  strained,  hoarse  voice,  not  in  the  least  like 
her  own,  "  Have  I  —  k-killed  her?  "  She  could  hear 
the  quick  response  gentle  as  a  breath,  "  No,  child,  and 
no  bones  broken  either."  With  eyes  that  did  not  see, 
she  had  watched  Dr.  Denton  switch  on  the  cab-light 
and  bring  out  his  bag,  with  the  reiteration,  "  You 
must  help."  She  could  visualize  the  figure  of  a  girl 
—  could  it  have  been  herself?  —  crouching  back  in  the 
cab-corner  and  whimpering,  "  No,  no,  Docky.  I  can't. 
I'm  —  afraid." 

Whether  he  had  answered,  she  did  not  know,  but 
the  next  instant  she  had  felt  herself  half -carried  from 
the  automobile.  She  could  see  herself  moving  for- 
ward on  his  arm  like  a  dream-figure  and  then  —  oh, 
merciful  Heaven  —  two  tiny  forms  lay  stretched  out 
at  her  feet.  She  had  a  vision  of  herself  obeying  his 
low  words  of  command,  and  presently  she  had  found 
herself  sitting  on  the  muddy  roadside,  with  Billy's 
head  in  her  lap. 

Fingers  —  they  must  have  been  hers  —  were  bath- 

108 


CHRISTINE  TURNS  A  CORNER       109 

ing  the  small  cold  forehead  with  water  which  her  com- 
panion had  snatched  up  in  his  hat  from  a  tiny  stream 
that  came  trickling  out  from  below  a  huge  boulder. 
Not  a  sound  had  broken  the  hush  except  now  and  then 
the  silky  wet  rustle  of  the  trees,  the  far-away  rumble  of 
a  train,  the  slightly  quickened  breathing  of  the  doctor 
who  was  working  with  cool  professionalism  over  the 
prostrate  little  figure  at  the  foot  of  a  tree. 

Then  had  come  the  glad  moment  when  Billy's  eye- 
lids had  fluttered,  and  the  golden-brown  eyes,  the  image 
of  her  own,  were  wandering,  wandering  —  up  into  her 
face.  "Where's  Daffy?"  had  been  his  instant  de- 
mand, as  he  struggled  into  a  sitting  position. 

"  Daffy's  over  there  with  Doc'ky.  She's  going  to 
be  all  well  — " 

A  torrent  of  sobs  had  interrupted  her.  "  Go  away ; 
I  don't  like  you.  You  were  bad  to  Daffy.  We  runned 
away  from  you.  We  was  going  to  live  in  a  cave  and 
be  robbers  only  Daffy  wanted  to  say  good-bye  to 
Laurie  and  — " 

"  Please  don't,  Dilly,"  she  had  broken  in,  on  the 
point  of  tears.  "  No,  you  must  stay  here  with  me," 
she  had  tried  to  hold  the  wriggling  little  body.  "  Daf- 
fy's sick,  poor  little  girl,  you  mustn't  disturb  her." 

"  I  want  Daffy,"  he  had  wailed,  throwing  all  manly 
restraint  to  the  wind.  "  I  hate  you.  You're  a  bad 
sister.  You  were  nasty  to  Daffy.  She  isn't  dead,  is 
she?  "  He  sat  up  suddenly,  stark  with  terror. 

Christine  remembered  she  had  shivered  from  head 
to  foot.  "  No,  no,  but  if  she's  lame  or  something, 
for  life,  I'll  never  forgive  myself.  Oh,  why,  why,  did 
I  lose  my  head  and  drive  like  a  fiend  ?  " 

Dilly's  accusing  finger  had  been  pointed  in  her  face. 


"  Was  it  you  runned  over  Daffy  ?  You're  bad  like  a 
killer.  Let  me  go.  You're  a  girl  what  kills." 

He  had  shaken  himself  free  from  her  restraining 
hands,  and  run  over  to  the  tree  beneath  which  lay 
his  twin,  bandaged  from  head  to  foot,  but  smiling 
weakly  up  into  Dr.  Denton's  face. 

"  All  comfortable  now,  kiddie?  "  she  had  heard  him 
asjc,  as  with  infinite  tenderness  he  stooped  to  lift  the 
racked  little  frame  in  his  arms. 

"  Goody,  she  isn't  dead.  She  isn't  dead,"  the  little 
boy  had  shouted,  throwing  himself  against  the  doctor 
in  an  ecstasy  of  tearful  joy. 

"  Easy  there,  easy,  Dilly,"  the  doctor  had  cautioned, 
bearing  his  burden  carefully  in  the  direction  of  the  cab. 
"  Little  sister's  pretty  well  used  up.  Take  big  sister's 
hand,"  he  had  advised  over  his  shoulder  as  the  little 
boy  still  pressed  close  to  his  side. 

"  I  won't,  I  won't."  The  tempestuous  outburst  still 
rang  in  her  ears.  "  Daffy  'n'  I  hate  her.  We  won't 
never  speak  to  her  again.  She  runned  over  Daffy. 
She's  bad  like  a  killer." 

And  in  spite  of  all  Dr.  Denton's  remonstrance  and 
cajoling  he  had  persisted  in  this  attitude.  Back  again 
in  the  cab  the  doctor  had  been  forced  to  guide  the 
wheel  with  his  right  hand  while  Daffy  lay  in  the  hollow 
of  his  left  arm.  For  the  little  girl,  too,  had  tearfully 
refused  to  let  Christine  bear  her  weight.  So  they 
had  made  the  strange  journey  slowly  homeward. 

Then  came  the  memory  that  would  burn  in  her 
brain  to  the  end  of  her  life.  When  Amelia's  loving 
care  had  settled  Daffy  in  her  tiny  white  bed,  and  she 
had  crept  humbly  in  to  make  her  peace,  the  child  had 
screamed  with  terror  and  driven  her  from  the  room. 


CHRISTINE  TURNS  A  CORNER       in 

And  every  attempt  she  made  that  night  to  win  the 
favor  of  either  twin  had  met  with  the  same  heart- 
breaking rebuff. 

She  was  slipping  disconsolately  down  the  stairs 
after  her  last  vain  effort  when  Dr.  Denton  stepped  out 
of  the  living-room,  and  waited  for  her,  one  arm  on 
the  newel-post.  His  eyes  met  her  mournful  gaze 
with  a  deep  understanding. 

"  Scurry  off  to  bed,  child,  and  get  plenty  of  sleep. 
You  looked  fagged  out." 

She  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  lowest  step,  then 
moved  imperceptibly  closer.  "  Docky,  will  you  tell  me 
the  truth,  the  whole  truth  ?  "  she  rasped  out  an  uncon- 
trollable little  sob,  then  fiercely  caught  control  of  her- 
self. "  Why  doesn't  anybody  like  me?  Why  haven't 
I  any  real  friends  ?  I  —  I  never  thought  much  about 
it  before,  and  —  and  of  course,  it  isn't  going  to  spoil 
my  young  life" — with  a  defiant  lift  of  the  chin 
which  her  eyes  instantly  gainsaid  — "  only  I've  a  curi- 
osity to  know." 

He  let  his  eyes  wander  appraisingly  over  her  face. 
Her  humility  was  genuine.  The  cry  of  anguish  came 
from  her  heart. 

"  Goldilocks,"  he  said  as  he  caught  her  hand  sud- 
denly in  a  clasp  of  vitality  and  warm  life,  "  you're  on 
the  right  track.  You're  finding  yourself,  and  some 
day — "  He  checked  himself  abruptly,  only  to  add 
the  next  moment,  "  You're  in  no  condition  for  a  heart- 
to-heart  talk  to-night,  but  perhaps  my  old  friend  Emer- 
son can  answer  your  question  more  satisfactorily  than 
I, — '  To  have  a  friend,  be  one.' ' 

She  mused  a  moment,  then  drew  a  full  breath.  "  Do 
you  think  that's  it?  You're  always  such  an  old  com- 


fort,  Docky.  I'm  going  to  remember  that."  Over 
the  traces  of  her  tears  her  face  was  so  irradiated 
with  a  passion  of  hope  that  it  startled  him.  "  And, 
as  Cort  says,  to-morrow's  always  another  day." 

Before  he  could  reply,  she  had  turned  and  fled. 

She  had  done  her  best  to  obey  his  injunction,  but 
sleep  would  not  come.  When  the  small  clock  on  her 
bedside  table  had  ticked  away  the  second  hour  of  the 
morning  with  rhythmic  precision,  she  was  still  clutch- 
ing her  pillow.  Suddenly  she  sat  erect  again  and 
flung  back  the  two  long  golden  braids  that  hung  child- 
fashion  over  her  shoulders. 

She  must  steal  to  Daffy's  door  to  make  sure  that 
Amelia  had  not  fallen  asleep.  She  squared  her  'shoul- 
ders—  she  would  not  try  to  deceive  herself.  She 
knew  perfectly,  that  Amelia,  that  most  faithful  watch- 
dog, would  not  close  an  eye  the  night  through.  She 
wanted  to  convince  herself  that  the  little  girl  still 
lived,  still  breathed,  that  she  was  not,  in  short,  what 
Dilly  had  taunted  her  with,  "  a  killer." 

Daffy's  bedroom  door  was  closed,  but  a  small  white 
figure  in  white  pyjamas  lay  curled  up  on  the  rug  just 
outside  the  door.  By  the  dimmed  hall-light  she  could 
see  that  he  was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  exhausted  child- 
hood. Tears  undried  lay  along  his  cheeks  and  now  and 
then  a  sob  escaped  his  parted  lips.  Christine  stood, 
looking  down  at  the  sleeping  boy.  For  some  reason, 
inexplicable  to  herself,  she  was  strangely  moved.  The 
utter  childish  abandon  of  the  body,  the  golden  hair 
lying  in  damp  ringlets  on  his  forehead  like  a  luminous 
mist,  the  small  mouth  that  quivered  as  though  from  a 
well-remembered  sorrow,  all  seemed  to  draw  her  ir- 
resistibly. The  next  instant,  with  a  sudden  quicken- 


CHRISTINE  TURNS  A  CORNER        113 

ing  of  her  heart-beats,  she  stooped  and  with  a  little 
effort  gathered  the  sturdy  young  form  into  her 
arms. 

Dilly  stirred.  His  eyes  fluttered  open,  closed  again 
on  the  instant,  and,  with  a  distinctly  audible  "  bad 
girl,"  he  nestled  against  her  shoulder,  and  was  fast 
asleep.  For  an  imperceptible  fraction  of  a  second  her 
lips,  light  as  a  breath,  touched  his  flushed  cheek. 
Then  she  tucked  him  away  in  his  bed,  and  with  an 
odd  lightheartedness,  crept  back  to  Daffy's  room. 

Amelia  raised  heavy  eyes  to  the  slim  figure  in  yel- 
low silk  kimono  and  mules  in  the  doorway.  "  She's 
asleep  now."  She  got  stiffly  to  her  feet  to  draw  a 
coverlet  over  the  tiny  form.  "  Poor  babe,  she's  made 
out  a  poor  night." 

"  So  have  you,  'Melia."  Then  with  one  of  her 
quick  decisions,  "  Do  you  know,  I  believe  a  cup  of 
piping  hot  coffee'd  do  you  good.  It  always  made  a 
man  of  me  when  I'd  been  sitting  up  half  the  night 
boning  for  a  history  exam.  'Melia,"  she  went  on, 
stamping  her  soft-slippered  foot,  "  don't  look  at  me 
as  though  I'd  lost  my  senses.  O-o-oh,  I  didn't  wake 
her  up,  did  I  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  whisper  of  deepest 
contrition.  "I  —  I  know,"  she  had  to  swallow  a 
whole  mouthful  of  pride,  before  she  could  bring  her- 
self to  add,  "  I  know  I  haven't  always  been  as  thought- 
ful as  I  should,  but  you  —  just  wait  and  see." 

With  this  mysterious  threat  she  was  off.  A  long 
half-hour  later,  she  reappeared.  Her  cheeks  were 
scarlet,  her  eyes  drooping  with  weariness,  but  triumph- 
antly she  bore  a  steaming  pot  of  coffee,  a  Sevres  cup 
and  saucer,  and  a  plate  of  buttered  toast  on  a  tray. 

Now  Amelia  had  a  matchless  skill  in  the  art  of 


ii4      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

coffee-making.  She  was  a  connoisseur,  too,  of  coffee- 
drinking.  But  that  night  she  must  have  been  bitten 
by  a  strange  desire  for  coffee  that  was  anything  but 
amber-clear,  for  she  will  tell  you  herself  that  the  cup 
of  coffee  which  Christine  insisted  on  pouring  with  her 
own  pretty  hands  was  a  draught  fit  for  the  gods,  and 
that  nectar  —  Amelia  had  a  wide  acquaintance  with 
nectar  and  the  gods  from  the  myths  on  which  Laurie 
fed  his  hungry  mind  —  could  not  have  brought  such 
warmth  to  her  heart  and  such  strength  to  her  tired 
limbs. 

In  the  freshness  of  waking  Christine  sprang  up  with 
a  song  on  her  lips.  Then  she  remembered.  But  a 
morning  of  cloudless,  April-blue  skies,  with  every 
bird  on  the  wing,  and  the  garden  sweet  with  its  prom- 
ise of  flowers  and  fruit,  was  not  made  for  sadness 
or  the  gloom  of  repentance.  So  her  tubbing  and 
dressing  went  on  with  a  merry  whistling  which  now 
and  then  burst  into  a  loud  carol. 

To  her  surprise  she  found  the  dining-room  deserted, 
with  every  trace  of  breakfast  cleared  away.  With 
the  new  thoughtfulness  still  upon  her,  she  made  her 
way  into  the  kitchen.  Misery  was  humming  a  quaint 
little  cradle-song,  though  deep  in  the  intricacies  of 
bread-making.  She  glanced  up  at  the  girl's  entrance. 
A  smile  lighted  her  over-thin  face. 

"  Morning,  Misery,  I  must  have  overslept.  My 
fool-watch  stopped,  you  see." 

"  Sure,  you  must've  been  dog-tired  with  all  last 
night,  Miss  Christine,"  she  was  vigorously  kneading 
the  snowy  mass  of  dough  as  she  spoke,  "  and  I  says 
to  myself,  just  let  her  sleep  long  as  she  likes  and  she 
can  have  her  breakfast — " 


CHRISTINE  TURNS  A  CORNER       115 

"  Don't  bother.  I'll  wait  on  myself,"  interrupted 
Christine,  with  a  magnanimous  air. 

"  Of  course  you'll  do  that,  Miss  Christine.  I  was 
expectin'  nothing  else.  I'm  that  busy  with  my  work, 
and  no  Amelia  to  help,  I'll  be  lucky  to  be  out  of  the 
kitchen  by  midnight.  But  glad  I  am  to  do  some- 
thing for  that  blessed  Amelia.  She's  sure  been  more 
than  a  sister  to  me  since  I  come  here,  and  what  was 
we  put  into  this  world  of  trouble  for,  but  to  work 
and  help  others  along."  Under  her  light,  deft  touch 
there  were  beginning  to  appear  from  the  snowy  mass 
the  outlines  of  a  shapely  loaf.  "  Now,  ain't  that  the 
truth,  Miss  Christine?" 

Christine  made  no  answer.  The  wind  had  been 
taken  out  of  her  sails.  She  had  expected  that  Misery 
would  be  overwhelmed  by  her  generous  offer  to  get 
her  -own  breakfast.  Her  cool  way  of  taking  that  for 
granted  had  been  disconcerting,  to  say  the  least. 
Rather  noisily  she  began  to  arrange  her  tray. 

"  I'm  thinkin'  now,"  the  woman  went  on,  skilfully 
transferring  loaves  from  board  to  tin,  "  you'll  be 
likin'  to  help  Amelia  some  yourself  this  mornin'.  Poor 
soul's  humped  up  worse  'n  a  cripple  with  her  rheu- 
matiz.  Small  wonder,  say  I,  routin'  round  yesterday 
in  the  rain  after  those  young  ones.  I'm  thinkin'  you 
can  make  the  beds." 

Christine  let  the  toast  slip,  butter-side  down,  to  the 
floor.  "  Make  beds !  I  never  made  a  bed  in  all  my 
life.  Why — I  —  I  don't  know  how,"  something  in 
Misery's  eyes  made  her  wind  up  a  bit  shamefacedly. 

"  Nothing  easier,"  was  the  imperturbable  answer. 
"  Besides,  you've  slept  in  a  bed,"  this  last  without 
a  hint  of  impertinence. 


n6      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  Ye-es,  but  I  never  noticed  how  they're  put  to- 
gether. At  school  I  always  paid  my  chum  to  make 
mine." 

All  unconsciously  Christine  was  beginning  to  ex- 
perience a  changing-  sense  of  values.  In  the  old  days 
among  her  set  any  acquaintance  with  the  domestic  art 
was  not  only  a  negligible  quantity  but  a  matter  of 
airiest  contempt.  Since  Freddy  Blue  had  come  into 
her  life,  she  was  beginning  to  rate  skill  in  the  home 
a  bit  more  highly.  And  here  was  Misery  expecting 
her  to  put  her  shoulder  to  the  wheel  of  housework 
when  she  was  as  colossally  ignorant  and  inexperienced 
as  a  child.  "  I  really  couldn't  make  a  bed  to  save 
my  skin,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Well,  by  the  time  you've  swallowed  your  break- 
fast, I'll  have  my  hands  clear  of  this,  then  I'll  show 
you." 

So  it  was  Christine  took  her  first  lesson  in  bed- 
making,  and  that  night  she  learned  to  the  full  the  truth 
of  the  old  adage,  "  As  you  make  your  bed,  so  you 
lie  in  it." 

She  was  midway  down  the  hall  bound  for  Laurie's 
room  when  she  heard  his  voice  in  the  nursery.  Her 
own  name  caught  her  ear. 

"  It  wasn't  Christine's  fault  at  all.  Doctor  Den- 
ton  told  me  so  last  night.  She  wasn't  a  bit  like  the 
bad  man  in  the  story  who  murdered  his  own  little 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  you  mustn't  say  it  again,  or 
think  it.  Besides,  Daffy  is  going  to  get  better.  Now 
come,  old  fellow,  drink  this  cup  of  milk." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  then  a  choking 
sound  and  an  outburst  of  sobs.  "  I  c-c-can't.  It 
w-won't  go  down." 


CHRISTINE  TURNS  A  CORNER        117 

Again  Laurie's  gently  pleading  voice.  "  Try  again, 
old  man.  It'll  be  easier  next  time.  You  mustn't  get 
sick,  you  know.  Poor  'Melia's  pretty  nearly  down 
and  out  now,  and  who'll  look  after  Daffy  if  she's 
knocked  out?  See,  I'll  hold  the  cup  for  you." 

Christine  realized  that  the  little  boy  must  have 
made  an  heroic  effort  to  obey,  for  a  minute  after  came 
his  triumphant  cry,  still  half  a  sob,  "  Look,  look, 
Laurie,  I'm  most  half  done."  Then  with  an  unmis- 
takable swagger,  "  Say,  I'll  drink  ten  hundred  glasses 
of  milk  to  help  Daffy  'n'  'Melia." 

That  little  conversation  to  which  she  had  deliber- 
ately played  eavesdropper  gave  the  girl  material  for 
deep  thought  while  she  was  painstakingly  carrying 
out  Misery's  instructions  in  making  Laurie's  bed. 
How  skilfully  he  had  won  over  high-spirited,  rebellious 
little  Dilly!  How  thoughtful,  how  unselfish  he  was! 
It  glinted  through  her  memory  now  that  every  one 
who  knew  Laurie  never  failed  to  remark  his  happy 
spirit  despite  his  handicap.  She  had  never  given 
thought  to  it  before,  but  what  had  he  to  make  him 
happy,  while  she  who  was  so  intensely  alive,  with 
such  capacity  for  gladness,  she  who  had  so  much,  was 
far  from  happy?  What  was  the  meaning  of  it  any- 
how? Had  he  in  his  sweet  unconsciousness  already 
mastered  the  truth  that  Docky  had  shared  with  her 
the  night  before,  "  to  have  a  friend,  be  one  "  ?  Had 
Laurie  made  his  way  into  the  hearts  of  all  who  crossed 
his  path  just  by  being  helpful,  just  by  being  kind? 

Though  she  did  not  know  it  then,  Christine  was 
gaining  a  dim  vision  of  the  great  truth,  that  when 
ease  and  health  are  swept  away  and  we  are  stripped 
to  the  very  soul,  the  soul  arises  in  triumph.  She 


n8      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

had  yet  to  learn  with  her  great  unfed  appetite  for 
life  that  she  would  never  find  what  she  sought  in  a 
mad  pursuit  of  happiness.  It  would  come  only  in 
love,  that  magnificent  and  profligate  outpouring  of 
self  for  some  one  or  something  other  than  herself. 

She  was  roused  from  her  absorption  by  the  sound 
of  heavy  footsteps  dragging  down  the  hall. 

"  Laurie,"  Amelia's  haggard  face  appeared  in  the 
open  doorway.  "  Will  you  —  ?  " 

"  Laurie's  in  the  nursery  with  Dilly.  Won't  I 
do?" 

Amelia  stared.  "  You  here !  What  a  turn  you 
gave  me!  No,  I  want  Laurie  to  sit  with  Daffy  while 
I  fix  up  a  dose  of  my  medicine.  She's  awake  now 
and  I  — " 

She  swayed  and  would  have  fallen,  but  for  the 
strong  young  arm  that  came  instantly  to  her  sup- 
port. 

"  Who  screamed?  "  Misery  came  to  the  rescue  as  if 
by  magic.  "  Don't  be  so  frightened,  Miss  Christine. 
She  ain't  dead.  She's  just  keeled  over  from  rheuma- 
tiz.  Here,  you  help  me  get  her  to  her  room.  I'll 
have  her  fixed  up  in  no  time.  My  poor  husband  had 
them  spells,  too." 

Some  fifteen  minutes  later  Christine  closed  Amelia's 
door  behind  her  with  an  explosive  sigh  of  relief. 
Amelia  was  resting  comfortably  now.  Misery  had 
ably  assumed  command  of  the  situation,  hers  had 
been  but  the  part  to  obey.  But,  somehow,  she  felt 
strangely  tired.  She  would  put  on  her  hat,  and  run 
into  the  sun-steeped  garden.  She  was  slipping  down 
the  hall  to  her  room  when  Amelia's  words,  "  I  want 


CHRISTINE  TURNS  A  CORNER        119 

Laurie  to  sit  with  Daffy,"  sprang  back  into  her  mem- 
ory. 

On  noiseless  feet  she  crept  to  the  sick  child's  door 
and  peered  in.  The  little  girl  lay  with  eyes  closed, 
her  cheeks  whiter  than  the  bandages  which  bound 
her  head.  A  great  bruise  marred  one  cheek,  and 
her  arms  which  lay  on  the  coverlets  were  bandaged 
too,  almost  to  the  shoulders.  Involuntarily  Christine 
shuddered,  and  a  strangling  little  sob  escaped. 

"  'Melia,"  murmured  Daffy  sleepily,  then  opened 
wide  eyes  blue  as  the  morning  sky.  She  shrieked 
with  sudden  terror,  "  It's  you ;  go  away.  I'm  afraid, 
I'm  afraid." 

Laurie  came  hobbling  to  the  door  as  fast  as  his 
crutches  would  bring  him.  His  fine  senses  gauged 
the  situation.  "  I'll  stay  with  Daffy.  Misery  thinks 
'Melia'll  be  all  right  in  an  hour  or  so." 

"  I  was  going  to  stay,  but  — "  Christine  shrugged 
her  shoulders  with  the  old  air  of  indifference.  The 
morning  sunshine  was  infinitely  more  to  her  taste 
than  sitting  in  a  stuffy  sick-room.  She  moved  away 
with  a  springy  step.  Of  a  sudden  she  stopped,,  and 
bracing  her  shoulders  with  the  air  of  one  who  has 
reached  an  unalterable  decision,  marched  back.  She 
beckoned  the  boy  outside  the  door. 

"  Laurie,"  she  said,  with  an  unexpected  pleading 
note  in  her  voice,  "  tell  me  how  to  make  friends  with 
the  twins." 


CHAPTER  XII 

TANGLED   THREADS 

Laurie  studied  her  a  moment  in  silence.  He  smiled 
suddenly  and  with  an  unlooked-for  brightness.  "  Oh, 
Christine,  how  nice! " 

A  swift  wonder  filled  her  that  never  before  had 
she  noticed  his  resemblance  to  their  father.  He  had 
the  same  kind  eyes  and  mouth,  the  same  loving  qual- 
ity and  geniality.  A  wild  longing  for  her  father 
fell  upon  her.  She  was  beginning  to  realize  what 
a  tremendous  power  for  good  he  had  exerted  over 
her  in  his  quiet  way  as  well  as  over  all  the  others  who 
had  crossed  his  path.  It  came  over  her  with  one 
of  her  flashes  of  perception  that  he  had  passed  on 
this  rare  gift  to  his  crippled  son. 

She  had  to  crowd  her  heart  out  of  her  mouth  and 
blink  a  mist  from  her  eyes  before  she  could  bring 
herself  to  speak,  "  It's  all  bunk,  to  give  it  even  a 
thought  " —  her  indifference  was  well  assumed  — "  but 
it  rather  nettles  me  to  have  those  kiddies  downright 
hate  me.  Debutantes  are  such  petted,  spoiled  crea- 
tures, you  know.  Besides,"  she  went  on,  her  lips 
tightening,  "  some  one's  got  to  look  after  Daffy  now 
that  Amelia's  caved  in,  and  the  moon  would  be  as 
easy  to  get  as  a  nurse  unless  we  stumble  suddenly  into 
a  fortune,"  she  added,  with  a  glint  of  humor.  "  So,  I 
fancy  it's  up  to  me." 

1 20 


TANGLED  THREADS  121 

"  Don't  forget  me.  I  can  do  heaps  of  things.  I've 
had  time  to  learn  them,  not  being  a  regular  boy.  It'll 
be  jolly  fun  playing  around  with  Daffy  and  Dilly." 

His  gallant  gaiety  made  her  throat  tight  again. 
"  Yes,  but  there'll  be  other  things  to  do,  besides  amus- 
ing those  imps.  You  — " 

Daffy's  voice  raised  tearfully  in  protest  at  Laurie's 
prolonged  absence  made  her  swallow  the  rest  of  her 
sentence. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  caught  his  hand  desperately,  "  I 
shan't  let  you  go  till  you  tell  me  what  to  do." 

Laurie  laughed,  a  jolly  boy's  laugh  with  a  mis- 
chievous chuckle  in  it.  "  What  did  you  like  best  in 
the  world  the  winter  you  fell  on  the  ice  and  broke 
your  leg  ?  " 

Her  face  broke  delightfully  into  a  reminiscent  smile. 
"  When  mother'd  come  in  at  twilight  and  tell  me 
stories.  But  how  could  you  know?  You  were  too 
young  to  remember." 

He  flushed  very  red,  but  answered  quietly,  "  I  do 
remember.  That  was  the  happiest  time  of  my  life. 
You  used  to  be  glad  when  mother'd  bring  me  and 
my  fiddle,  and  we'd  pretend  to  be  some  wonderful 
orchestra  and  —  yes,  Daffy,  I'm  coming  this  min- 
ute." 

Christine  stood  outside  Daffy's  room  for  a  long 
moment,  her  eyes  staring  queerly  at  the  closed  door. 
Her  mind  shuttled  back  and  forth  from  that  happy 
convalescence,  well  remembered  now  that  Laurie's 
words  had  magically  unlocked  it  from  her  memory, 
to  the  distress  of  the  present  situation.  On  a  sudden 
impulse  she  crossed  to  a  window,  and  stood,  gazing 
down.  The  very  trees  seemed  to  be  waving  kindly 


122      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

beckoning  arms.  How  she  longed  to  be  in  their 
friendly  companionship!  How  she  wanted  to  dance 
to  the  music  of  their  tender  young  leaves!  She  had 
a  sudden  desire  to  run  and  run  and  run,  to  go  off 
somewhere  far  away  into  the  sunlight,  away  from  all 
these  troubling  thoughts  and  duties. 

Instead  she  moved  quietly  to  the  nursery  where 
she  found  Dilly  plumped  down  on  a  bearskin  rug, 
laboriously  mending  a  broken  gun  for  his  twin. 

"  Go  'way,  bad  girl,"  he  stormed,  when  he  found 
Christine  smiling  down  at  him. 

"  Laurie  wants  you  to  come  right  away  to  Daffy's 
room.  She's  awake,  and  there's  going  to  be  some 
story-telling." 

"  O-o-oh,"  the  word  spilled  over  into  a  laugh.  In 
a  flash  he  was  gone  from  the  nursery  and  had  burst 
like  a  young  cyclone  into  his  little  sister's  room. 
Christine  followed  with  a  light  step,  but  a  heart  that 
seemed  to  skip  beats.  What  if  her  ruse  failed? 
Doctor  Denton  had  urged  them  to  use  the  utmost 
%caution  in  keeping  Daffy  from  undue  excitement. 

Dilly  had  left  the  door  open.  She  could  hear  his 
voice  blending  with  Daffy's  weaker  voice  in  happy 
chatter.  Just  outside  the  door  Christine  dropped  to 
the  floor  on  a  rug  and  sat,  hugging  her  knees.  Then 
in  a  voice  that  trembled  slightly  in  spite  of  her  effort 
at  self-control  she  began  her  story.  Instantly  the 
chatter  ceased. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,"  the  invisible  story-teller  an- 
nounced, "  a  good  fairy  brought  twin  children  to 
earth.  She  gave  them  to  kind  parents  who  called 
them  Daffy  and  Dilly." 

A  little  cry  of  terror  had  escaped  Daffy's  lips  at 


TANGLED  THREADS  123 

the  sound  of  Christine's  voice,  but  Laurie's  gentle 
touch  quieted  her.  Then  before  she  realized  it,  she 
was  lost  in  the  interest  of  the  story  which  Christine 
wove  of  truth  and  fiction  with  a  skill  that  surprised  her- 
self. When  the  tale  had  come  to  an  end  with  the  un- 
fortunate automobile  accident  of  the  night  before  and 
the  older  sister's  sorrow,  there  was  a  tense  moment  of 
silence,  then  an  eager  little  voice  called  out,"  That 
was  a  lovely  story.  Tell  'nother." 

And  Christine  did.  This  time  it  was  a  marvellous 
tale  of  two  moon  babies,  her  favorite  in  the  long  days 
of  that  convalescence  which  Laurie  had  brought  to 
mind.  That  won  her  a-reward. 

"  Tell  'nother,"  demanded  Dilly,  and  Daffy  added 
the  invitation,  issued  with  all  the  imperiousness  of  a 
royal  mandate,  "  Sit  here  by  me,  Christie.  I  want  to 
see  you  tell  it." 

So  Christine  was  allowed  to  make  her  peace. 

Late  that  afternoon  when  Doctor  Denton  visited 
his  small  patient,  he  stood  for  a  moment  unobserved 
in  the  doorway.  He  carried  with  him  for  many  a  day 
the  picture  that  met  his  eyes.  Daffy  lay  propped  up 
among  the  pillows,  shining-eyed,  with  lips  parted  in 
breathless  rapture.  Her  twin  was  perched  on  the 
arm  of  Laurie's  chair,  which  had  been  drawn  close  to 
the  bedside.  One  arm  tightly  encircled  his  brother's 
neck.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed,  Buddha-fashion,  sat 
Christine,  weaving  magic  spells  with  her  newly  dis- 
covered gift  of  story-telling. 

For  the  perceptible  space  of  a  moment  he  stood  and 
with  his  trained  eyes  surveyed  the  central  figure.  He 
noted  the  slimness  of  her  body  with  its  youthful,  elu- 
sive charm.  Somehow,  the  rippling  masses  of  hair 


124     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

like  a  coil  of  gold  at  the  nape  of  her  neck,  the  brown 
eyes  with  the  dancing  specks  of  gold  in  their  depths, 
the  delicately  tinted  face,  the  simple  white  slip  con- 
fined about  the  waisjt  with  a  yellow  ribbon,  all  reminded 
him  of  a  rare  yellow  orchid. 

The  story  came  to  an  end  with  bursts  of  laughter 
from  the  twins  and  a  low  chuckle  of  delight  from 
quiet  Laurie. 

"  That  was  the  nicest  one  yet,"  Dilly  was  still  chok- 
ing with  laughter;  "I  just  love  to  hear  about  those 
funnies." 

"  Tell  it  all  over  again,"  Daffy  issued  the  command 
from  her  throne  of  pillows  with  something  of  Chris- 
tine's old-time  imperiousness.  "  Shouldn't  she, 
Laurie." 

Laurie  smiled  radiantly  at  his  older  sister  out  of 
the  fullness  of  the  moment.  "  It  was  a  corker.  But 
you  must  be  too  tired  to  tell  it  again.  That  makes  five 
this  afternoon.  We  mustn't  be  piggy-wiggies." 

"  I'm  just  a  mite  tired,  but  Docky  mightn't  —  oh !  " 
she  was  the  first  to  notice  the  tall  figure  standing 
quietly  in  the  doorway.  She  tumbled  off  the  bed 
lightly,  her  eyes  round  with  glad  surprise.  "  What 
cloud  did  you  drop  from?  How  long  have  you  been 
here?  How  much  did  you  hear ?" 

For  some  reason  wholly  inexplicable  to  herself,  all 
sense  of  fatigue  was  gone.  She  felt  curiously  light- 
hearted  of  a  sudden.  It  seemed  absurdly  enough  to 
have  to  do  with  the  way  his  thick  brown  hair  waved 
at  his  temples.  She  loved  his  hair. 

"  Just  enough  to  know  that  you've  a  gift  of  the 
gods,  a  sense  of  humor,"  he  answered  her  last  ques- 


TANGLED  THREADS  125 

tion  first,  when  he  could  make  himself  heard  above 
the  shrieks  of  welcome  that  emanated  from  the  twins. 
"  But  I've  no  fancy  for  another  patient  on  my  hands, 
Miss  Goldilocks."  His  professional  eye  had  been 
quick  to  notice  her  unusual  pallor  and  dark-circled 
eyes.  "  Take  a  brisk  walk  for  a  half -hour  at  least, 
while—" 

"  But  Amelia's  — "  she  began  to  protest. 

"  Laid  up  with  rheumatism,"  he  finished  the  sen- 
tence for  her.  "  I  was  afraid  of  that,  after  her  ad- 
venturing in  the  rain  yesterday.  I  ran  up  to  her 
room  first.  She's  resting  comfortably  now,  and  we'll 
have  her  up  good  as  new  in  a  few  days."  He  had 
already  seated  himself  beside  the  small  patient  in 
the  chair  which  Laurie  had  promptly  vacated,  and  was 
skilfully  manipulating  the  bandages  on  one  bruised 
arm. 

"  So  run  along,  Christine ;  I  don't  need  any  help,  and 
you  do  need  the  air." 

She  shook  her  head,  contradicting  him  with  a  lit- 
tle lift  of  her  eyelashes,  "  I'm  feeling  fit  as  a  fiddle, 
and  I  know  I  can  help.  Honest,  Docky,  I  love  to  stay 
here  and  —  oh,  well,  I  suppose  you  can't  help  being 
an  old  bear,"  she  submitted  laughingly,  to  his  sud- 
den assumption  of  sternness.  "  I'll  be  back,  though,  in 
fifteen  minutes  by  the  clock." 

With  that  he  had  to  be  content. 

When  she  reached  the  garden,  twilight  was  falling 
quickly,  enfolding  the  earth  as  if  with  a  mantle  of 
velvet.  She  began  to  run  like  some  wild  thing  up  and 
down  the  paths,  sniffing  the  fresh,  sweet  April  air 
with  its  smell  of  blossoming  things.  Exultantly  she 


126      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

filled  her  young  lungs.  A  thrill  ran  through  her; 
it  was  sheer  joy  to  be  alive  at  this  "  still  time  of  the 
world." 

A  feeling  swept  over  her  that  life  was  beginning  to 
widen  out  before  her  and  display  unsuspected  vistas 
of  pleasure  and  pain.  Her  heart  of  a  sudden  grew 
big  with  wild  longings  for  things  impossible,  for  the 
edge  of  the  skyline,  for  love  and  life  and  action.  At 
the  end  of  the  grounds  she  caught  a  first  glimpse  of 
the  moon,  a  new-born  thin  disk  hung  like  some  fairy- 
bow  in  the  deep-blue  of  the  heavens,  and  she  stopped 
to  wonder  and  admire. 

A  short,  sharp  bark  broke  the  stillness.  The  next 
instant  a  dog  wriggled  his  way  through  a  gap  in  the 
hedge,  and  caught  an  edge  of  her  gown  in  his  mouth. 

"  Wrinkles,  Wrinkles,  s-stop  that,"  shouted  a  voice 
which  rang  familiarly  in  her  ear,  and  Douglas  Barton 
cleared  the  hedge  in  a  neat  bound. 

"  Three  times  we've  met,"  Christine  choked  on  a 
giggle,  as  the  young  man  forcibly  freed  her  from 
the  dog's  playful  grip.  "  Perhaps,  now,  the  fates'll 
be  satisfied  to  let  the  rest  of  our  acquaintance  pro- 
ceed peaceably,"  she  interrupted  his  stream  of  stam- 
mered apologies.  "  Do  you  know,  I've  been  think- 
ing about  you,  and  wondering  how  I  could  return  your 
umbrella.  You  remember  I  was  not  urged  to  repeat 
my  call  of  the  other  day."  The  thought  of  Joshua 
Barton's  stern  dismissal  suddenly  crinkled  the  corners 
of  her  mouth  and  brought  out  a  dimple.  The  humor 
of  the  situation  had  begun  to  appeal  to  her. 

"I  —  I  was  w-wishing  I  —  h-had  an  excuse  to 
come  over,  to-night,"  he  blurted  out  with  native  hon- 
esty, "  and  here's  one  all  ready  made.  I'd  clean  for- 


TANGLED  THREADS  127 

gotten  about  the  umbrella.  I  —  I  heard  about  your 
—  the  accident.  I  met  Freddy  Blue,"  he  answered 
the  question  in  her  eye,  "  just  outside  her  g-gate.  She 
was  coming  over  to  see  you,  but  T-Tommy  fell  down 
the  front  steps  and  she  had  to  g-go  back  and  f-fix  her 
up." 

"  I  suppose  Docky  —  Dr.  Denton  —  told  her,"  she 
said,  more  to  herself  than  to  her  companion.  "  Things 
looked  pretty  bad  last  night,"  she  went  on,  her  voice 
a  bit  tremulous,  "  but  everything's  lovely  again,"  she 
ended  with  a  glad  laugh. 

"  Were  you  having  a  race  with  yourself  a  few 
minutes  ago?  "  he  demanded,  as  he  fell  into  step  with 
her,  Wrinkles  meekly  following  at  his  heel. 

"  No,  I  was  just  pretending  that  the  world  was  a 
great  big  balloon  and  I  had  it  tied  to  a  string  and 
was  running  away  with  it."  Her  face  sparkled  with 
joyous  mischief. 

He  laughed  at  her  odd  conceit.  There  was  a  defi- 
nite pause  before  he  spoke  again,  and  then  it  was  with 
a  wistfulness  that  touched  her  to  quick  sympathy. 

"  I  cried  myself  to  sleep  once  because  I  couldn't 
have  a  balloon.  Do  you  know,  I've  never  had  one. 
There  was  nobody  to  give  me  a  balloon,  and  it's  not 
a  thing  to  buy  for  yourself." 

"  It's  never  too  late.  You  shall  have  one  the  first 
time  I  go  to  town.  But  why  were  you  denied  just 
a  balloon?  Didn't  you  ever  go  to  a  circus  and  have 
your  father  buy  you  one  for  each  hand  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Uncle  Joshua  doesn't  believe 
in  balloons  or  circuses  or  —  anything  else,"  he  stam- 
mered, with  sudden  bitterness.  "  I'm  beginning  to 
realize  I  never  was  a  1-little  b-boy." 


128      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  Ha^ve  you  always  lived  with  your  Uncle  Joshua  ?  " 
Her  soft  voice  wooed  to  confidence. 

"  Mother  d-clied  when  I  came,  and  —  and  f-father 
—  went  away  when  I  was  only  s-seven.  He  —  he 
d-died  a  few  m-months  —  after  that." 

She  made  a  little  wordless  sound  of  sympathy. 
When  she  spoke  it  was  to  ask,  "  And  are  you  all 
your  family?  " 

He  roused  himself  with  an  effort.  "  Uncle  Joshua 
and  I  are  the  only  ones  l-left.  But  forgive  me  for 
t-troubling  you  with  my  t-troubles.  Only  to-night 
things  somehow  s-seemed  to  mount  up.  You  see, 
Wrinkles  is  a  persona  non  grata  with  Uncle  Joshua," 
he  admitted,  with  a  wry  smile,  "  and  we  left  some- 
what h-hurriedly  after  a  pretty  b-bad  scene.  Scenes 
rather  destroy  one's  appetite  for  d-dinner,  I  find.  I 
was  f-feeling  plagued  lonesome  when  Wrinkles 
t-tackled  you,  Miss  Trevor." 

Christine  came  to  one  of  her  quick  decisions. 

"  You're  not  going  to  feel  lonesome  while  I'm  your 
next-door  neighbor."  A  sense  of  adventure  and  of 
responsibility  too,  came  over  her  at  her  own  words. 
"  We're  badly  in  need  of  an  older  brother.  I  was 
just  thinking  of  advertising  for  one.  Why  don't 
you  apply  for  the  job?  " 

He  stood  for  a  moment,  eyeing  her  thoughtfully. 
She,  watching  him,  divined  with  her  fine  intuition 
the  trend  of  his  thought.  "  Your  uncle  has  forbidden 
you  to  have  anything  to  do  with  us  ?  " 

His  face  was  rueful.     "  Yes,"  he  admitted,  simply. 

"  Must  you  obey?" 

There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation,  then,  with  shoul- 
ders squared  and  head  upflung,  he  gave  her  a  sudden 


TANGLED  THREADS  129 

brilliant  smile  that  lit  up  his  sombre  eyes  and  mourn- 
ful young  face.  "If  you  really  n-need  me,  I'll  take  the 
b-bit  in  my  teeth,  and  r-run.  I  know  it's  time  I  did. 
I've  known  it  for  a  while  b-back  b-but  —  b  but  — " 
he  paused,  and  emotion  augmented  the  stammer  in 
his  speech,  "  Uncle  Joshua  has  it  over  me  s-seven  ways, 
and  —  sometime  will  you  let  me  t-tell  you  about  it?  " 
he  demanded,  with  a  boyish  impulsiveness. 

"  Looky  here,  man  " —  she  gave  him  a  roguish  side- 
glance  — "  are  you  going  to  answer  that  ad  in  person  ? 
Well,  then,  one  of  your  duties'll  be  to  share  your 
troubles,  and,  worse  than  that,  you'll  have  to  listen 
and  be  all  sweet  sympathy  when  I  pour  into  your  ears 
the  sad  tale  of  my  young  life.  Is  that  a  compact?" 

He  gripped  her  hand  so  hard  that  she  almost  cried 
out.  "  Yes,  Miss  Trevor." 

"  Miss  Trevor,  indeed,  and  that  to  a  new-found 
sister!  You  must  call  me  by  my  little  name.  I'm 
Christine." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  replied,  with  a  conscious  flush, 
"  yes,  Christine." 

Their  eyes  met  and  they  laughed  together  as  only 
the  young  can  laugh. 

"  I'll  just  dash  up  to  the  house  for  your  umbrella, 
Douglas,"  she  moved  lightly  away,  "  then  I  must  fly 
back  to  Daffy." 

"  That's  more  like  it,"  approved  Dr.  Denton,  when 
she  slipped  into  the  sick-room  with  cheeks  softly 
aglow,  and  eyes  ashimmer.  "  This  is  going  to  be 
rather  a  hard  pull  for  you,  child,  and  you  must  take 
care  of  yourself." 

"  I'm  strong  as  a  horse.  Never  been  sick  a  day  in 
my  life."  She  looked  at  him,  head  flung  back,  eyes 


130      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

sparkling  with  mischief.  "  I'm  getting  to  be  such  a 
saint  these  days,  Docky,  it's  positively  dangerous. 
My  wings  have  already  begun  to  bud,  and  wings 
aren't  in  style  this  summer,  you  know." 

Dr.  Denton  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and 
let  his  laugh  ring  out  unchecked.  "  Wings  wouldn't 
be  becoming  to  your  style  of  beauty,"  he  chuckled. 
"  You're  more  girl  than  angel." 

"  Would  you  like  me  better  if  I  were  an  angel- 
girl  ?  "  she  asked  teasingly,  coming  a  step  closer.  He 
was  deftly  arranging  Daffy's  pillows. 

"  M-m.  That's  too  weighty  a  problem  for  me  to 
decide  off-hand."  His  answer  came  in  a  bantering 
tone. 

A  sudden  thought  made  her  stare  at  him  search- 
ingly,  then  she  gave  a  queer  little  laugh.  "I  —  I  al- 
most wish  I  was  an  angel-girl  like  — "  she  bit  off  the 
rest  of  her  sentence,  and  walked  over  to  the  window 
where  she  stood  gazing  out  into  the  darkness,  her 
teeth  denting  her  lower  lip. 

There  was  perfect  silence  for  a  moment ;  then  she 
wheeled  sharply  about.  He  was  absorbed  in  making 
Daffy  comfortable  for  the  night.  Somehow  his  ab- 
sorption irritated  her.  Would  he  ever  consider  her 
anything  but  a  child,  to  be  teased  and  ordered  about? 
She  was  certainly  not  more  than  a  year  younger  than 
Freddy  Blue.  His  voice  roused  her  abruptly. 

"  Daffy's  likely  to  have  a  quiet  night.  You  can 
lie  on  the  couch  to  be  within  earshot  when  she  needs 
you.  There's  no  necessity  for  your  staying  up  as 
Amelia  had  to  last  night.  To-morrow  I'll  make  ar- 
rangements to  relieve  you  if  only  for  a  couple  of 
hours."  With  a  few  specific  directions  as  to  medi- 


TANGLED  THREADS  131 

cine  and  care  of  the  small  patient,  he  hastened  away. 

The  room  seemed  curiously  empty  at  his  departure. 
With  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  Christine  tried  to  ban- 
ish the  unpleasant  feeling.  She  would  get  her  writ- 
ing materials,  and  answer  Cort's  last  scrawl  which  she 
had  failed  to  do  in  the  crowded  events  of  the  day. 
But  hardly  had  she  settled  herself  in  the  bedside  chair 
when  Daffy's  faint  demand  for  a  drink  of  water 
brought  her  to  her  feet.  And  so  it  was  through  the 
long  hours  of  the  night.  Restless  with  fever  and 
pain  the  little  patient  developed  countless  needs  and 
desires,  and  morning  found  her  and  her  self-consti- 
tuted nurse  pallid  even  to  the  lips. 

The  morning  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  when  at 
last  the  child  fell  into  a  heavy,  dreamless  sleep. 
Gently  disengaging  her  hand  from  Daffy's,  Christine 
crept  to  her  room  to  freshen  a  bit  before  she  went 
down  to  breakfast.  A  knock  at  the  door  startled 
her.  Misery  entered,  and  deposited  a  temptingly  ar- 
ranged tray  on  the  bedside  table.  With  a  smile  on  her 
thin,  homely  features  she  proceeded  to  serve  her  young 
mistress. 

"  This  is  mighty  good  of  you,"  Christine  threw 
herself  wearily  into  a  chair,  "  with  all  that  extra 
work—" 

Tears  sprang  into  the  woman's  eyes.  "  Sure,  Miss 
Christine,  it's  that  as  makes  me  happy,  doin'  for  other 
people,  now  I  ain't  got  any  of  my  own.  But  here 
I  mustn't  be  talkin'  about  my  own  troubles.  Dr. 
Denton,  God  bless  him,  'phoned  a  few  minutes  ago 
as  to  how  you  was  to  be  ready  for  an  hour's  walk 
soon  as  you  had  breakfast.  By  the  time  you  was 
ready,  she  —  I  just  couldn't  get  the  name,  Miss  Chris- 


132      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

tine  —  she'd  be  here,  and  when  you  come  back,  you 
was  to  nap  after  your  bad  night — " 

"How  did  he  know?"  Christine  demanded,  with 
eyes  bright  with  surprise.  "  He  expected  Daffy  to 
have  a  good  night  and — " 

The  woman  flushed  violently.  "  Sure,  I'm  askin' 
your  pardon,  Miss  Christine,  but  I  was  up  and  about. 
Amelia  didn't  sleep  much,  and  I  could  hear  you  stirrin' 
and  talkin'  and  try  in'  to  make  the  little  one  comfort- 
able, and  so  I  just  talked  to  the  doctor  myself  and  — " 

She  scuttled  away,  glad  of  the  excuse  the  ringing 
of  the  door-bell  afforded  her. 

A  moment  later  Freddy  Blue  hurried  into  the  room 
with  outstretched  hands.  She  brought  with  her  an 
atmosphere  of  freshness  and  vigor  that  infused  new 
life  into  Christine's  tired  young  frame. 

"Through  breakfast?"  her  rich  contralto  voice 
sang  out.  "  Well,  then,  Dr.  Denton's  prescription 
for  you  is  an  hour  in  the  sunshine,  and  it's  some  sun- 
shine this  morning."  With  friendly  violence  she  pro- 
ceeded to  array  her  companion  in  her  outer  garments. 
"  There,  now,  off  with  you." 

"  Everybody's  so  kind,  but  really  I  shouldn't  — 
began  Christine,  in  weary  protest. 

Freddy  broke  in  with  a  gusty  laugh.  "  Oh,  but 
you  must.  The  doctor  says  so,  and  his  word  is 
law." 

For  the  first  time  Christine  lifted  her  eyes  and 
looked  squarely  at  the  other.  She  was  gloriously 
flushed  and  glad-eyed.  "  You  —  you  look  very 
happy,"  she  brought  out,  with  unconscious  wistfulness. 
She  shot  a  second  glance  at  her,  quick  but  apprais- 
ing, taking  in  this  time  not  only  the  shining,  odd 


TANGLED  THREADS  133 

gray-green  eyes,  and  the  radiant  face,  but  the  swing 
of  the  strong  shoulders,  the  fine  length  of  limb,  and 
the  grace  of  her  carriage.  "  Do  you  know,  Freddy 
Blue,  you're  a  perfect  peach  of  a  woman,"  came 
slowly,  as  if  in  unwilling  tribute. 

Freddy  laughed,  a  big  hearty  laugh,  and  laughed 
again  in  spontaneous  merriment.  "  Your  bad  night's 
gone  to  your  head,  childie.  With  me,  it's  always  been 
handsome  is  as  handsome  does,  and  my  beauty's  never 
been  one  of  my  worries.  But  you're  right.  I'm 
happy,  so  happy  I'd  like  to  go  skipping  down  the 
street  like  a  perfectly  foolish,  exuberant  young  lamb. 
Just  fancy  me,  great  big  me,  gamboling  through  the 
village  on  a  lamb  trot."  Again  her  laugh  rang  out  and 
an  answering  spark  awoke  in  the  velvety  brown  eyes, 
which,  however,  died  out  at  the  girl's  next  words. 

"  Something  so  nice,  so  wonderful's  come  about  I'm 
so  stewed  up  inside,  I'd  like  to  shout  it  from  the  house- 
tops, only  I  can't  —  just  yet,"  she  added,  with  a  sud- 
den delicious  shyness.  "  When  the  time  comes,  tho' 
I  want  to  be  the  one  to  tell  you  our  —  my  secret,  for 
you've  always  been  my  happy  princess,  you  know." 

The  thought  careered  wildly  through  Christine's 
mind  that  she  had  already  divined  her  secret,  and  there 
flashed  back  into  her  memory  Dr.  Denton's  significant 
words  of  his  newly  gained  happiness  on  that  never-to- 
be-forgotten  automobile  ride  of  a  few  nights  before. 

"  But  I  mustn't  deprive  you  of  a  minute  of  sun- 
shine." With  smiling  lips  and  happy,  mysterious 
eyes,  Freddy  propelled  her  gently  toward  the  door. 
"  I  can  only  be  spared  for  a  couple  of  hours  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  I'm  a  selfish  beast."     Christine  faced  about  from 


134 

the   doorway.     "I   quite   forgot.     How's   Tommy?" 

"  Bright  as  a  new  penny  this  morning.  But  how 
in  the  name  of  Betsy  did  you  know?  I  didn't  peep 
about  her  to  Dr.  Denton.  He's  up  to  his  eyes  now 
in  work,  so  I  thought  I  could  doctor  her  myself.  He 
couldn't  possibly  have  known." 

Christine  shook  her  bright  head.  "  Douglas  told 
me." 

"Douglas?     Oh!" 

There  was  an  endless  moment  of  silence,  then,  in 
a  scrupulously  even  tone,  she  went  on,  "  Oh,  yes,  he 
was  at  the  gate  when  it  happened.  I  had  forgotten 
you  knew  Mr.  Barton." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WRINKLES 

May  was  already  ten  days  old,  and  beautiful  with 
color  and  odor  and  bird-life,  before  Daffy  was  Tier- 
self  again  and  Amelia  could  hobble  about.  But 
though  the  days  had  been  crowded  with  things  that 
had  to  be  done,  Christine's  acquaintance  with  her 
young  next-door  neighbor  had  grown  apace.  He  had 
taken  to  vaulting  the  hedge  at  the  twilight  hour.  And 
Wrinkles  always  accompanied  him. 

"  I  have  to  bring  him,"  he  had  explained  apolo- 
getically, on  his  second  visit.  "  This  is  Uncle  Josh- 
ua's b-bad  time.  I  mean,  his  pain  s-seems  to  attack 
him  worst  when  evening's  coming  on,  and  then  he 
always  f -flies  in  a  pretty  rage  if  Wrinkles  is  any- 
where about.  You  see,"  he  went  on,  eagerly  com- 
municative, "  Uncle  Joshua  hasn't  any  special  f-fond- 
ness  for  the  m-meek  and  m-mild,  and  that's  where 
Wrinkles  and  I  c-come  in." 

"  Bullies  never  do  like  the  people  they  can  kick. 
Your  Uncle  Joshua's  a  bully."  Before  the  other's 
horrified  astonishment  she  broke  into  a  laugh.  "  I'm 
sorry  if  I've  hurt  your  feelings.  I'm  always  saying 
things  before  I  think." 

A  shade  of  boyish  melancholy  clouded  his  face  for 
an  instant.  "  You  haven't  h-hurt  my  feelings.  I  was 
just  thinking  —  I  —  y-you  know,  I  never  thought 
about  it  before,  b-but,  by  Pete,  I  b-believe  you're  right. 

i35 


136      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

He  does  fancy  k-kicking  anybody  who  comes  in  his 
way,  and  most  of  all,  Wrinkles  and  me.  We're  both 
just  strays,  you  know.  I  fished  Wrinkles  out  of  an 
alley  one  night.  He  was  s-starved  and  b-bruised  and 
almost  on  the  last  gasp,  and  I  was  in  pretty  much  the 
s-same  healthy  state  when  Uncle  Joshua  g-gathered 
me  in  after  three  years  in  an  orphan  asylum." 

"  Poor  boy !  "  She  put  out  her  hand  impulsively. 
Then  with  a  sudden  and  alluring  audacity  she  smiled 
at  him.  "  Why  don't  you  kick  back?  " 

He  stopped  short,  and  looked  at  her  in  a  puzzled 
sort  of  way.  "  Kick  back !  That's  just  it.  I  d-don't 
know  how." 

Her  shoulders  spoke  volumes.  "  Don't  be  a  jelly- 
fish, Doug.  You've  got  to  learn  how." 

She  slipped  into  silence.  The  silence  was  main- 
tained for  several  long  endless  minutes.  Then  he 
spoke  in  a  humble  tone,  "  I  knew  you'd  d-despise  me. 
I  d-despise  myself,  but  I  just  c-can't  put  up  a  f-fight. 
It  isn't  in  me  somehow.  Perhaps,  it's  b-because  I 
was  never  allowed  to  p-play  with  other  youngsters,  and 
Uncle  Joshua  had  the  spirit  all  b-beaten  out  of  me 
when  I  was  a  little  1-lad.  But  perhaps  you're  right. 
I've  no  more  s-spirit  than  a  jelly-fish." 

She  had  been  busily  thinking,  but  his  last  words 
roused  her  abruptly. 

"  You've  spoiled  Uncle  Joshua,"  she  said,  as  she 
broke  into  sudden  mirth.  "  You've  let  him  have  his 
way  in  everything.  Now  you  must  begin  to  unspoil 
him.  You  mustn't  say  you  can't."  She  divined 
what  his  excuse  would  be.  "  The  very  next  time  he 
commands  you  to  do  or  not  to  do  something  that  goes 
against  the  grain,  just  quietly  rebel." 


WRINKLES  137 

"  He'd  r- raise  the  r-roof,"  the  young  man  jolted 
out.  His  mouth  was  set  and  his  eyes  were  frowning. 

"Pouf!  Suppose  he  did.  It'd  be  up  to  him  to 
build  a  new  roof.  And  the  very  best  thing  that  could 
happen  to  you,  Douglas  Barton,  would  be  to  bolt  and 
let  him  do  his  building  all  by  his  lone."  She  went  on, 
goaded  into  utter  frankness.  "  You'.ve  never  stood 
on  your  own  feet.  It's  about  time  you  did.  Of 
course,  being  such  a  paragon  myself  " —  with  a  little 
gurgle  of  laughter  — "  it's  dead  easy  for  me  to  preach. 
But,"  she  clasped  his  arm  with  both  her  hands  and 
her  face  shone  with  a  sudden  earnestness,  "  it's  high 
time  you  began  to  live  your  own  life  and  —  it's  high 
time,  too,  I  was  getting  back  to  Daffy." 

With  a  light  "  hasta  la  vista  "  she  turned  and  sped 
up  the  path. 

A  minute  came  and  passed,  and  he  still  stood,  star- 
ing after  her  with  unseeing  eyes.  He  was  on  fire 
with  a  new  thought. 

The  story-telling  hour,  which  now  had  become  a 
firmly  established  institution  in  the  Trevor  household 
after  Daffy's  afternoon  nap,  prolonged  itself  the  next 
afternoon,  so  that  when  Christine  slipped  down  into 
the  garden,  darkness  was  coming  on  rapidly.  She  was 
almost  thrown  off  her  feet  by  Wrinkle's  enthusiastic 
reception,  and  his  master's  welcome  was  as  warmly 
eager,  if  a  bit  more  restrained. 

"  We  were  beginning  to  d-despair."  He  thrust  his 
hand  forth  in  quick  greeting  and  falling  into  step, 
they  sauntered  down  the  garden  path.  "  Do  you 
know,  you've  grown  to  be  the  s-stuff  of  which  my 
d-dreams  are  made." 

"Oh,  you  poet!     What  news?" 


138      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  Same  old  g-grind  at  the  b-bank,  same  old  world, 
same  old  everything."  He  dissembled  badly. 

"  Out  with  it,  man.     I  can  see  it  in  your  eyes." 

"  You're  right.  I'm  b-beginning  to  b-believe  you're 
always  right.  Well,  I  f-fired  the  first  g-guns.  Uncle 
Joshua  heard  me  whistling  for  Wrinkles  and  r-roared 
out  I  was  not  to  leave  the  house.  I  informed  him 
p-politely  I  had  a  tryst  with  you,  and  he  p-pawed  the 
air  and  ordered  me  to  my  room.  I  c-consigned  him 
quite  audibly  to  the  warm  place,  and  put  on  my  c-cap 
and  went  —  to  meet  you." 

"  Goody-good !  "  Christine  clapped  her  hands  in 
glee.  "  You've  'made. your  first  attack  on  the  fortress, 
and,  take  it  from  me,  you'll  win  with  colors  flying." 

He  frowned  gloomily.  "  But  I've  g-got  to  g-go 
b-back  and  take  what's  c-coming." 

"  Stand  up  and  take  it  like  a  man,  and  above  all, 
kick  back." 

A  spark  of  admiration  leaped  into  his  eyes. 
"  You're  a  w-wonder.  If  I  had  you  to  spur  me  on,  I 
might  amount  to  s-something  some  day.  Do  you 
know,"  he  asked,  pausing  a  moment  as  if  almost  over- 
come by  the  daring  of  his  thought,  "  if  you'll  b-back 
me  up,  some  day  I'll  defy  the  old  b-boy  on  his  own 
ground.  I'll  throw  up  my  j-job  at  the  b-bank,  and  go 
to  work  at  my  d-dreams  in  dead  earnest." 

Her  face  lighted  with  sudden  mischief.  "  You're 
coming,  Doug.  Uncle  Joshua'll  be  eating  out  of  your 
hand  before  you  know  it." 

"  If  I  ever  amount  to  anything,  I'll  owe  it  all  to 
you.  You're  the  n-nearest  approach  to  a — " 

"  Flesh  and  blood  girl,"  she  finished  for  him  with  a 
wicked  little  grin.  "  Talk  of  something  more  inter- 


WRINKLES  139 

esting.     How's    the    health    of    your    motor-car? " 

"Will  you  go  for  a  r-ride  some  evening?  Of 
course  I  know  about  Mr.  Van  Ness.  But  he  wouldn't 
mind  me."  His  eyes  held  the  unconscious  wistfulness 
of  a  child. 

"Oh,  Cort  hasn't  gooseberry  eyes.  Besides,  we 
agreed  to  give  each  other  a  long  rope."  An  involun- 
tary sigh  rose  to  her  lips,  as  with  the  eyes  of  her 
memory  she  read  again  the  short  scrawl  that  had  come 
to  her  that  morning,  the  first  in  several  days.  He  was 
making  full  use  of  his  long  rope.  "  It's  mighty  de- 
cent of  you  to  ask  me,  when  you  detest  driving  so 
heartily.  But  —  er,  well,  yes,  I'll  go,"  she  conceded 
handsomely. 

"  When  ?  "  came  his  instant  demand. 

"As  soon  as  Daffy's  all  mended  again.  The  little 
imp'd  howl  the  roof  down  if  I  wasn't  there  for  a  bed- 
time story,  but  it'll  be  different  when  Amelia's  on  the 
job  again.  I'm  getting  positively  round-shouldered 
from  all  my  responsibilities,"  she  declared,  with  a  spon- 
taneous laugh.  "  I'm  going  to  roll  them  all  in  a  ball, 
and  fire  it  at  Amelia  the  minute  she's  well." 

But  the  very  next  day  Christine's  slender  shoulders 
were  weighted  with  another  new  duty.  Intent  on 
finding  some  misplaced  drawing  materials,  she  danced 
into  the  living-room  after  breakfast.  She  was  half 
way  across  the  floor  before  she  noticed  Laurie  and 
Amelia  in  the  east  bow-window.  There  was  perfect 
stillness  for  a  full  moment,  then  suddenly  Laurie  closed 
the  book  in  his  hands  with  a  bang. 

"  No  more  history  to-day,  'Melia.  I  just  know  it 
cramps  your  leg  sitting  so  long." 

"  It  ain't  so  bad  as  it  might  be,"  Amelia  replied, 


140      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

gripping  her  hands  together  in  spite  of  herself,  "  and 
it's  been  so  long  now  since  you  did  your  lesson.  You 
know  you  want  to  learn  history,  so  you  can  be  a  big 
man  like  your  fathe/,"  she  went  on  artfully,  "  and 
time's  goin',  sure." 

"  I'll  never  be  the  wonderful  man  father  was. 
Why,  'Melia,  he  knew  just  everything.  History's 
mighty  interesting,  though,  and  it'd  be  nice  if  I  could 
learn  a  lot,  but  I  won't  let  you  help  me  till  you're  real 
well  again." 

"  I  used  to  like  history.     Won't  I  do  for  a  tutor?  " 

Laurie  threw  a  startled  look  over  his  shoulder  at 
Christine.  "  I  didn't  hear  you  come  in."  Then,  with 
a  deep-drawn  breath,  he  said,  "  I  wouldn't  be  selfish  as 
that,"  but  his  eyes  were  shining. 

"  Selfish !  You  selfish !  Your  name  isn't  Christine, 
is  it?"  she  asked,  with  irresistible  jollity.  "Do  you 
know,  I'd  rather  fancy  myself  in  the  role  of  a  tutor. 
Honest  Injun,  it'd  be  great  sport  to  do  my  old  history- 
teacher  to  the  life.  Miss  Ogg  was  a  real  fish.  Oh, 
I'll  have  to  get  a  pair  of  goggles,  and  draw  my  hair 
down  into  a  tight  egg,  and  practice  before  the  mirror 
saying  prunes  for  a  few  hours  a  day.  Then  I'll  be 
ready.  You  will  take  your  history-lesson  this  after- 
noon, Master  Laurence."  She  issued  the  command  in 
a  nasal  monotone  which  brought  a  smile  to  her  hear- 
ers' lips.  "  Come  to  my  office  at  three." 

"  Really?     Do  you  mean  it?  " 

"  Never  was  more  in  earnest  in  my  young  life." 

The  boy  caught  his  breath  quiveringly.  His  hands 
came  together  in  a  close  clasp.  "  I  never  thought 
things  could  be  so  jolly,"  he  brought  out  wonderingly. 
"  With  all  this  outdoors  to  look  at  and  you." 


WRINKLES  141 

Christine  followed  his  gaze.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  a  tree  close  to  the  bow-window.  It  was  a  delicate 
rain  of  young  leaves. 

"  I  have  it !  "  The  ring  of  her  tones  was  unmis- 
takably triumphant.  "  We'll  do  our  lessons  out-of- 
doors." 

And  so  it  happened  that  afternoon  that  Joshua  Bar- 
ton, making  his  painful  way  down  the  steep  flight  of 
stone  steps  that  led  to  his  Japanese  garden,  paused  on 
the  arm  of  his  man  Mark.  The  scene  that  was  being 
enacted  in  the  neighboring  garden  arrested  his  eye.  A 
pale-faced,  eager-eyed  boy  was  sitting  on  a  rustic  bench 
under  the  canopy  of  a  huge  elm.  Books  and  papers 
were  scattered  about  him.  His  lips  were  moving. 
His  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  face  of  a  girl  who  was 
sitting  crosslegged  on  the  turf  at  his  feet.  Joshua 
Barton's  eyes  lingered  for  a  moment  on  her  hair.  It 
was  wonderful  hair,  with  the  gleaming  smoothness  of 
gold. 

"  How  dare  those  young  beggars  make  all  that 
row  ?  "  he  exploded,  shaking  a  cane  in  the  direction 
of  the  young  Trevors  in  his  passion.  "  Don't  they 
know  this  is  the  hour  for  my  nap?  I'll  have  them  — " 
Anger  choked  him,  and  during  the  rest  of  his  progress 
down  the  steps  he  swore  in  loud  impotence. 

"  I  might  move  your  chair  to  the  other  end  of  the 
garden,"  suggested  Mark.  "  You  won't  be  disturbed 
there,  sir." 

"  Nonsense.  It  disturbs  me  even  to  know  they're 
there,"  snorted  the  old  man.  "  I  know  I  shan't  sleep 
a  wink — curse  them !  " 

And  this  ill-tempered  old  gentleman  prophesied  cor- 
rectly. For  though  he  was  beyond  ear-shot  of  the 


142      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

young  voices,  to  his  own  angry  disgust,  he  found  his 
eyes  wandering  again  and  again  to  the  boy  and  girl  so 
earnestly  at  work.  With  an  oath  he  would  close  his 
lids.  Irresistibly  they  would  fly  open  again,  and  his 
flaming  gaze  would  be  drawn  as  if  by  magic  to  those 
youthful  figures. 

Soon  childish  shouts  broke  the  deep  afternoon  quiet. 
Though  he  willed  not  to  look,  yet  he  saw  two  small 
forms  tear  across  the  lawn  and  fairly  hurtle  themselves 
on  the  brother  and  sister.  In  a  breath  they  had  thrown 
themselves  down  on  the  ground  beside  the  older  girl, 
and  presently  quiet  again  descended  on  both  gardens. 

"  A  precious  family-group,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"  The  beggars !  I'll  have  them  strangled  if  they  don't 
keep  still.  I'll  be  a  complete  wreck  without  my  sleep. 
How  can  I  be  expected  to  lie  here  and  suffer  ?  I'll  — 
turn  them  out  if  they  make  another  sound." 

But  this  threat  was  not  fulfilled.  For  when  the 
shadows  were  growing  longer  and  he  was  at  last  drift- 
ing off  to  sleep,  there  came  a  sound  which  made  him 
struggle  painfully  to  a  sitting  position  and  brought  a 
torrent  of  curses  and  oaths  to  his  lips.  He  glared  at 
the  young  Trevors.  But  they  had  no  eyes,  no 
thoughts  for  him.  They  were  listening  to  the  exquis- 
ite barcarolle  which  Laurie  was  playing  for  them. 
When  it  came  to  an  end,  there  was  a  moment  of  per- 
fect stillness,  then  again  the  boy  drew  the  bow  over  the 
strings  and  beautiful  aching  chords  filled  the  air. 
There  was  passionate  grief  in  the  music,  and  into 
Christine's  mind,  as  she  intently  studied  the  young 
face,  so  shy  and  earnest,  with  downcast  eyes  shadowed 
by  long  lashes,  flashed  the  image  of  a  lonely  soul  in 
pain,  still  bound  to  earth. 


WRINKLES  143 

"  That  was  beautiful,  Laurie,"  came  her  involun- 
tary tribute.  "  Only  it  was  too  sad.  Play  something 
gay  and  bright  like  the  sunshine." 

Mischief  lurked  in  his  eyes  as  he  tucked  the  fiddle 
under  his  chin.  Out  rang  the  notes  of  a  mad  dance; 
fast  and  faster  it  went,  gathering  pace,  lawless,  free 
as  the  air. 

Christine  positively  gaped  at  him,  "  I  didn't  know 
you  could  play  like  that.  Play  it  again."  Impulsively 
she  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  began  to  improvise  a  dance* 
to  his  music.  Her  whole  being  seemed  to  thrill  and 
sway  and  throb  to  the  wild  harmony  that  flooded  the 
air,  and  she  danced  with  the  grace  and  abandon  of  a 
gypsy.  When  the  last  faint  tremor  of  sound  died 
away  into  silence,  she  threw  herself  panting  on  the 
ground. 

"  I  haven't  had  such  a  happy  time  in  weeks  —  years, 
it  seems,"  she  mused  aloud.  "  It  was  like  being  let 
loose  from  prison.  I  love,  love,  love  to  dance." 

"  You're  the  most  beautiful  dancer  in  the  world." 
So  unmistakably  genuine  was  Laurie's  cry  of  admi- 
ration that  a  flood  of  color  ran  up  into  the  girl's 
face. 

Again  his  bow  was  on  the  strings,  and  this  time  he 
played  a  theme  delicate  as  a  fairy-dance,  and  again 
Christine  interpreted  the  music  with  eager  feet.  She 
seemed  the  very  impersonation  of  youth,  a  flaming 
torch  of  life  and  happiness,  as  with  a  pent-up  rapture 
she  abandoned  herself  to  the  joy  of  the  moment.  Her 
dancing-figure  held  all  the  poetry,  all  the  spirit  of  the 
new-born  spring. 

Laurie  made  a  movement  to  lay  aside  his  fiddle. 

"  'Mother  one,  'nother  one,"  chorused  the  insatiable 


144      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

twins,  who  always  sat  -wide-eyed,  spell-bound,  before 
Laurie's  music. 

Again  came  a  moment  of  utter  stillness.  Laurie's 
eyes  were  shadowed  with  dreams  while  he  fingered 
the  violin-strings.  Of  a  sudden  a  smile  came  and 
touched  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  when  at  last 
his  bow  swept  across  the  fiddle,  Christine  had  the  curi- 
ous feeling  he  was  playing,  not  to  them,  but  to  some 
invisible  audience.  The  opening  chords  of  "  Oh,  That 
We  Two  were  Maying,"  thrilled  through  her.  Then 
she  understood.  Their  mother  had  loved  that 
song. 

The  girl's  heart  flowed  out  to  the  player  on  a  wave 
of  transcendent  love,  and  then  and  there  was  swept 
away  for  all  time  her  shrinking  horror  of  the  crippled 
body.  She  was  suddenly  snatched  into  a  realization  of 
the  rare  beauty  of  the  boy's  soul  in  its  imperfect  hu- 
man case.  A  tenderness  filled  her.  He  was  inexpres- 
sibly gentle  and  appealing.  She  wanted  to  protect 
him  from  every  harsh  wind. 

As  the  last  note  floated  away  on  the  still  air,  a  tor- 
rent of  angry  oaths  came  to  her  ears.  The  next  in- 
stant the  cry  of  a  dog  in  pain  startled  her.  She  leaped 
to  her  feet  in  time  to  see  through  a  gap  in  the  hedge 
the  crippled  figure  of  Joshua  Barton  hurl  a  crutch  at 
the  yelping  animal,  then  topple  over  on  the  ground. 

Wildly  she  ran  towards  the  prostrate  form.  But 
before  she  reached  the  edge  of  the  Trevor  grounds 
Mark  and  a  Japanese  house-servant  were  speeding 
from  different  directions  over  the  lawn.  Together 
they  bore  the  silent  form  of  their  master  into  the 
"  Lonely  House." 

"  Doug  won't  come  to-night,"  Christine  told  herself, 


WRINKLES  145 

as  she  strolled  into  the  garden  at  the  close  of  day. 

But  the  thought  had  barely  formed  when  he  vaulted 
the  hedge.  He  was  alone. 

"Where's  Wrinkles?" 

The  dog's  name  was  magic  to  unlock  his  brooding 
silence. 

"  Poor  little  b-beggar,  half-dead.  One  of  Uncle's 
pleasant  little  t-tantrums,"  he  said,  speaking  with  an 
odd,  choked  utterance.  "  I  might  as  well  s-shoot 
him  — " 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  broke  in  on  him,  "  you  mustn't  do 
that.  He  isn't  badly  hurt." 

"  No,  only  I've  got  to  g-get  rid  of  him,  and  that'd 
be  the  easiest  way.  I'd  hate  to  g-give  him  to  s-some- 
body  who'd  ill-treat  him.  He's  an  affectionate  little 
chap." 

A  wish  that  Laurie  had  expressed  that  very  after- 
noon flashed  back  into  her  stimulated  memory,  "  Give 
him  to  us.  Laurie  —  he's  the  crippled  one,  you  know 
—  is  simply  mad  about  dogs,  and  I  know  he'd  love  him 
to  death." 

"  I'll  s-send  him  over  as  s-soon  as  he's  in  b-better 
shape."  That  comprised  the  sum  of  their  conversa- 
tion on  the  subject  of  Wrinkles'  change  of  masters, 
but  Christine  knew  that  it  would  go  hard  with  him  to 
miss  the  companionship  of  the  dog. 

"And  how  is  your  Uncle  Joshua?"  she  inquired 
genially,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  in  the  level  tone  that  bespeaks  a  pre- 
occupied mind,  "  he's  in  a  b-beastlier  temper  to-night 
than  usual." 

"  Did  he  hurt  himself  when  he  fell?  " 

In  answer  to  his  questioning  glance  she  proceeded 


146      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

to  describe  the  scene  which  she  had  chanced  to  wit- 
ness. 

"  No  harm  done,  except  to  his  disposition.  But 
Mark  says  he  was  unconscious  for  all  of  five  min- 
utes, and  when  he  came  to  he  raved  like  mad  about 
some  infernal  music — " 

"  Nice  old  man,"  interrupted  Christine,  wrinkling 
her  nose  disdainfully.  "Infernal  music,  indeed! 
You  should  just  hear  Laurie.  He  plays  like  a  regular 
angel.  I  suppose  the  dear  kind  thing  would  turn  us 
out  of  here  if  he  could." 

Douglas  colored  violently,  but  parried  the  blow  with, 
"  Let's  not  s-spoil  our  walk  to-night  with  any  more  of 
Uncle  Joshua.  Let's  t-talk  of  s-something  pleasant 
and  interesting." 

Uncle  Joshua,  however,  proved  an  interesting  theme 
of  conversation  at  the  Trevor  dinner-table  less  than  a 
week  after  that.  The  twins  were  in  the  midst  of  an 
eager  recital  of  how  they  had  unwittingly  disturbed 
his  afternoon  nap  by  falling  almost  simultaneously 
out  of  a  gnarled  old  apple  tree  which  stood  on  the 
edge  of  their  garden. 

"  And  you  just  ought  to  have  heard  what  he  called 
us."  Dilly's  brown  eyes  were  round  with  horrified 
astonishment.  "  He's  such  a  bad  man !  You  ought 
to  wash  his  mouth  out  with  soap,  Christine." 

Daffy's  eager  high  treble  continued  the  story,  "  'N' 
he  threw  his  crutches  at  us,  'n'  said  he'd  put  us  out  in 
the  street." 

"  Throwing  crutches  seems  to  be  about  the  best 
thing  Uncle  Joshua  does,"  Christine  remarked  drily. 

"  But  he  couldn't  put  us  out  in  the  street,  could 
he,  sister  ?  "  Tears  grew  in  the  heaven-blue  eyes. 


WRINKLES  147 

"  'Cause  this  is  our  house,  'n'  we  just  couldn't  live  in 
the  street,"  the  little  girl  half -sobbed  in  her  panicky 
fright. 

"  Don't  be  a  goosie."  Christine  began  to  scold,  but 
thought  better  of  it,  and  went  around  the  table  and 
kissed  her  small  sister.  "  He  — "  Soft  padding  steps 
on  the  veranda  made  her  break  off  and  wheel  quickly 
about. 

Through  a  French  window  which  had  been  opened 
to  the  warm  May  air,  a  dog  came  trotting  in.  With  an 
air  of  importance  he  marched  up  to  Christine. 

"  Good  old  Wrinkles !  "  She  stooped  to  pat  his 
back.  "Is  this  for  me?"  she  asked,  removing  an 
envelope  which  he  carried  in  his  mouth.  For  answer, 
Wrinkles  licked  her  hand  with  an  affectionate  red 
tongue.  The  note  ran,  "  My  troubles  are  all  over.  I 
belong  to  you  now."  It  was  signed  Wrinkles  Trevor. 

Christine  bent  down  and  gathered  the  dog  to  her. 
Contentedly  he  snuggled  against  her  shoulder.  Then 
she  deposited  him  in  Laurie's  lap.  "  He's  all  yours, 
Laurie.  Douglas  gave  him  to  you." 

For  a  long  breathless  moment  the  boy's  eyes  were 
raised  to  hers  in  flaming  astonishment,  then-  he  buried 
his  face  in  the  dog's  soft  black  coat. 

To  Christine's  dismay  two  tears  forced  themselves 
between  her  lashes  at  the  boy's  rare  show  of  emotion, 
but  she  managed  a  tremulous  laugh.  "  It'd  serve  the 
old  ogre  right  if  we  coaxed  Doug  away,  too." 

She  moved  closer  to  the  window,  and  gazed  out  into 
the  moon-silvered  garden.  'She  was  not  surprised  to 
see  his  slim,  boyish  figure  moving  stealthily  across  the 
lawn  in  the  tree  shadows.  A  moment  later  he  had 
leaped  the  hedge. 


148      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"Poor  Doug!  It's  like  tearing  out  a  bit  of  his 
heart,  I  know,  to  give  old  Wrinkles  up,"  she  murmured 
to  herself. 

"If  we  took  Doug  too,  poor  old  Mr.  Bar- 
ton wouldn't  have  anybody,"  Laurie  said,  when  he 
could  command  his  voice.  "  He'd  be  the  lonesomest 
man  on  earth." 

"Uncle  Joshua  lonesome!"  Christine  flung  over 
her  shoulder.  "How  could  he  be?  You  have  to 
have  a  heart  to  feel  lonesome,  and  he  hasn't  a  heart, 
you  know." 

"  He's  a  bad,  bad  man.  He  wants  to  throw  us  in 
the  street,"  shrilled  Daffy.  She  and  Dilly  were  on 
their  knees,  worshipping  at  Wrinkles'  shrine. 

"  Perhaps,"  began  Laurie  dreamily,  musing  aloud, 
"  perhaps  he  has  a  heart,  but  it's  locked  up  tight  and 
no  one's  found  the  key  yet."  He  was  silent  a  mo- 
ment, then,  with  his  face  against  Wrinkles',  "  I  say, 
Christie,  some  day  let's  adopt  that  lonesome  old  man." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AN  EMPTY  PURSE 

On  a  May  day  of  serene  beauty  Christine  sprang 
from  bed  with  soaring  spirits.  It  was  a  gay,  wonder- 
ful world  after  all.  She  set  about  dressing  with  a 
gurgle  of  song,  stopping  once  to  execute  a  mad  jig, 
with  only  one  slipper  on,  in  a  moment  of  unrestrained 
joy  at  being  alive  and  with  the  sap  of  youth  in  her 
veins. 

Her  bright  spirits  lasted  until  an  hour  after  break- 
fast when  she  came  upon  Amelia,  bathed  in  tears  over 
a  high  heaped  basket  of  mending. 

"  It's  just  nothin'," —  shamefacedly  Amelia  dried 
her  spectacles  on  one  pink-checked  sock.  "  Only  — 
only  " —  tears  began  to  make  their  uninterrupted  way 
again  down  the  withered  cheeks  — "  to  think  of  a 
Trevor  havin'  to  wear  patched  and  darned  things. 
Why,"  indignation  lent  passion  to  her  voice,  "  here's 
Daffy,  my  baby  Daffy,  with  the  toes  kicked  out  of  her 
very  best  pair  of  shoes,  and  her  others  —  a  sight 
worse." 

"  Oh,  you !  Is  that  all  ?  I  thought  your  whole 
family  had  gone  to  the  demnition  bow-wows,  wher- 
ever that  is.  Well,  there  are  plenty  of  shops  in  this 
big  world  where  you  can  buy  socks  and  shoes  and 
things,  you  know." 

There  was  a  strange  and  unpleasant  silence  that 
followed  this  light-hearted  retort. 

"It's  easy  enough  to  buy  things  when  you  have  the 

149 


150      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

money,  but — "  With  nice  care  Amelia  proceeded  to 
select  the  exact  shade  of  pink  cotton  from  her  work- 
basket  and  thread  her  needle. 

"But  —  but  what?"  Christine  demanded  impa- 
tiently, already  halfway  out  of  the  door.  She  was 
eager  for  a  run  in  the  sunshine  with  Wrinkles  before 
she  settled  herself  to  her  pleasant  task  of  monogram- 
ming  a  bridge  luncheon  set. 

"  We  haven't  a  charge  account  anywhere  now," 
Amelia  reminded  her,  after  another  silence. 

"  You  don't  have  to  charge  them.  You  can  buy 
them  —  pay  for  them  outright  with  money,  I  mean." 

"  There's  bare  a  few  dollars  left  for  household  ex- 
penses. And  the  next  allowance  don't  come  till  the 
middle  of  the  month." 

Amelia's  head  was  bent  low  again  over  the  pink- 
checked  sock. 

Christine  drew  in  her  breath.  "I  —  I  didn't  realize 
before  that  we're  poor,  really  poor,"  she  brought  out 
slowly.  There  was  a  pause  in  which  her  eyes  were 
fastened  on  a  pattern  of  the  wallpaper.  "  Well,  Daffy 
and  Dilly  have  to  have  shoes,  that's  a  cinch.  Tell  me 
their  size  and  where  you  buy  them.  I  was  thinking 
of  running  up  to  town  this  morning  for  some  shopping 
of  my  own." 

The  next  breath  she  indulged  in  a  short  laugh  at 
the  open  surprise  in  the  other's  face.  "  You  aren't 
used  to  me  yet  in  my  role  of  the  older  sister,  are  you, 
'Melia?  It's  some  change,  I  'fess  up." 

For  answer  Amelia  caught  and  held  her  eyes.  "  Is 
it  the  truth,  you  was  goin'  a-shoppin'  this  mornin'  ?  " 
Then,  as  the  girl  reddened,  but  gave  no  answer,  she 
went  on  gently,  "  I  know  you  haven't  wanted  overmuch 


AN  EMPTY  PURSE  151 

to  go  to  town,  things  bein'  as  they  are  now.  Couldn't 
I  do  your  shoppin'  for  you,  and  get  those  things  for 
the  children,  and  save  you  the  —  bother,  Christine?" 

There  was  a  definite  pause  before  the  girl  brought 
herself  to  speak.  Then  with  her  shoulders  well 
squared  and  her  head  lifted  high  as  an  outward  ex- 
pression of  her  mood,  she  observed  very  steadily, 
"  You're  a  dear,  but  I've  got  to  do  it,  myself.  If  I 
hurry,"  she  added,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "  I  can 
catch  the  next  car.  Have  the  sizes  and  colors  and 
things  ready,  I'll  be  on  the  spot  in  fifteen  minutes." 
She  turned  and  was  out  of  the  room  before  Amelia 
could  reply. 

When  she  was  again  poised  in  the  doorway,  the  old 
woman's  eyes  showed  that  they  found  her  noticeably 
lovely  in  her  suit  of  soft  black  silk  with  the  close-fitting 
toque  and  the  smart  suede  pumps  that  encased  her  slim 
feet.  The  wonder  grew  in  Amelia's  mind  that  her 
eyes  were  so  curiously  like  deep  brown  velvet  and  her 
hair  so  luminously  gold. 

"  Fire  away,  'Melia."  She  drew  ivory  tablets  from 
her  gold  mesh  purse,  and  held  a  gold  pencil  poised 
with  a  business-like  directness  which,  however,  did  not 
hide  from  the  shrewd  old  soul  the  restless  flicker  of  her 
eyes  and  the  unusual  ivory  tint  of  her  cheeks. 

"  And  you'll  be  careful  gettin'  off  and  on  the  street- 
cars, Christine,"  the  old  woman  wound  up  her  list  of 
directions  with  ill-concealed  anxiety,  "  and  most  of 
all,  look  out  for  those  awful  automobiles.  Sometimes 
I  think  it's  better  to  make  straight  for  'em  than  to  try 
and  dodge  'em,"  she  declared,  in  an  unusual  bu-rst  of 
communicativeness.  "  You  honest  stand  a  better 
chance  of  not  findin'  yourself  mashed  to  death." 


152      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  I've  not  the  slightest  intention  of  finding  myself 
mashed  to  death  under  an  automobile.  I  don't  fancy 
being  killed  that  way.  In  fact,  I'm  rather  planning  to 
elope  with  some  brand-new  shiny  machine  that  hap- 
pens to  wink  its  eye  at  me  somewhere  in  the  great 
wicked  city."  Christine  broke  into  a  laugh  at  the 
other's  horrified  astonishment.  "  But  there,"  she  gave 
her  a  reassuring  pat,  "  don't  worry  your  nice  old  head 
about  me.  I'm  bound  to  turn  up  all  to  the  good, 
though  I  warn  you  I'm  feeling  frisky  this  morning,  and 
there's  no  telling  what  adventure'll  swoop  down  on 
me  around  a  corner." 

Amelia  looked  at  her  queerly.  "  Sometimes  — 
lately  —  I  just  don't  know  what  to  make  of  you.  You 
put  me  so  in  mind  of  your  mother  with  one  of  your 
pretty  ways  and  smiles,  and  then  — " 

"  And  then,  there's  a  reversion  to  type,  and  I'm  the 
same  old  Christine  Trevor  who  thinks  she's  the  pivot 
of  the  universe,"  the  girl  came  quickly  to  the  rescue. 
"  I'll  tell  you  a  deep-dyed,  dark-purple  secret,  'Melia." 
Her  eyes  flashed  with  roguish  mischief  as  she  lowered 
her  voice  to  a  stage  whisper.  "  Sometimes  I  don't 
know  myself.  I've  about  decided  I'm  suffering  with 
growing  pains.  But  there,  if  you  will  keep  chattering 
so,  you'll  make  me  miss  the  car.  I've  only  one  minute 
and  —  and  twenty-three  seconds  to  make  it  now."  She 
was  fairly  out  of  the  room  before  the  last  words  had 
left  her  lips. 

"  Oh,  wait,"  cried  Amelia,  bustling  after  her. 

Christine  turned  impatiently.  "  Honestly,  I  haven't 
a  second  to  lose  — " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  but  I  —  you  —  oh,  Christine, 
you  are  goin'  to  —  to  borrow  that  money  ?  " 


AN  EMPTY  PURSE  153 

Christine  faced  her  trembling-voiced  interrogator 
with  a  queer  mixture  of  resentment  and  indulgence. 
"  A  Trevor  doesn't  borrow.  I'm  going  to  spend  my 
very  own  money.  Now,  'Melia,  forget  to  worry  till 
I  come  back." 

With  that,  the  anxious  old  woman  had  to  content 
herself. 

The  street-car  was  already  humming  like  a  huge  in- 
sect around  the  corner  when  Christine  pelted  down 
the  front  steps.  Gathering  up  her  silk  skirts,  she 
fleetfooted  it  across  the  lawn  and  landed  victoriously, 
if  a  bit  breathlessly,  on  the  lower  step. 

To  her  dismay  she  found  but  one  vacant  seat  in  the 
car,  and  that  did  not  look  inviting.  A  fat,  rosy- 
cheeked  young  woman,  and  a  fat,  rosy-cheeked,  year- 
old  boy,  sprawling  in  her  lap,  left  but  a  few  inches  of 
the  seat  unoccupied. 

Christine's  experience  in  street-car  riding  had  been 
limited,  very  limited  indeed.  She  probably  could  have 
counted  the  times  on  her  fingers.  For  a  moment  she 
gazed  about  for  some  other  place  of  refuge  a  bit  ex- 
pectantly. Surely  some  one  of  the  dozen  or  more  men 
was  possessed  of  a  spark  of  gallantry.  But  though 
glances  of  frank  admiration  were  leveled  at  her,  the 
dozen  or  more  men  remained  stolidly  fixed. 

So  after  a  moment  in  which  she  despairingly  con- 
templated the  swaying  car-straps,  she  slid  into  the  de- 
spised unoccupied  few  inches  of  space.  Whereupon 
her  young  neighbor  promptly  welcomed  her  by  trans- 
ferring moist,  pudgy  fingers  from  his  mouth  to  her 
sleeve. 

"Ain't  he  cute?"  cooed  his  mother,  as  Christine 
vainly  tried  to  edge  away  from  his  damp  clasp.  "  And 


154      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

that  friendly,  too !  I  declare,  he'll  be  abdoocted  away 
one  of  these  fine  days  and  me  and  Jim'll  be  held  up 
for  some  big  ransom  like  I  see  once  a  millionaire's  kid 
in  a  movie." 

For  a  full  moment  she  was  silent,  while  her  baby-blue 
eyes  fairly  devoured  every  detail  of  her  seat-mate's 
garb.  Christine  began  to  stir  uneasily  under  the  avid 
gaze. 

"  Say,"  said  her  neighbor,  enthusiasm  kindling  her 
pudgy  features,  "  I  say,  maybe  you're  one  of  them 
movie  queens  yourself.  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it, 
you're  the  dead  spit  of  a  picture  I  seen  some  weeks 
back  of  a  princess  being  dragged  off  by  a  rough-neck 
and  the  hero  jumpin'  out  at  him  with  two  guns  from 
back  of  a  big  mountain  or  such  like.  Now,  I  come  to 
think  of  it,  they  call  her  the  '  Blood-red  Lily.'  Ever 
seen  it?  No,  you  just  had  ought  to.  It's  some  beaut! 
They're  showin'  it  this  week  at  the  Empire,  right  next 
door  to  my  brother-in-law's  pawnshop.  I  wouldn't 
miss  seein'  it  again  for  worlds.  That's  why  I  got  a 
early  start  this  mornin',  so  I  could  do  a  lot  of  bargains 
and  then  that  movie." 

With  convulsive  gesture  Christine  clutched  at 
her  gold-meshed  purse.  It  was  as  if  she  wanted  to 
reassure  herself  that  its  contents  were  still  there.  Her 
eyes  were  gazing  out  of  the  car-window,  following  a 
road  which  dipped  down  through  a  fresh,  green  valley. 
But  she  was  not  seeing  the  road.  She  was  seeing  a 
tiny  pair  of  patent-leather  boots  with  toes  kicked  out. 

"Where  is  the  —  the  Empire?"  she  inquired,  in  a 
level  tone  designed  to  express  preoccupation.  But  un- 
consciously she  sat  taut,  her  mind  ready  to  register 


AN  EMPTY  PURSE  155 

with  crystal  clearness  every  detail  of  her  companion's 
answer. 

"  Over  in  the  west  end,  in  kind  of  a  out-of-the-way 
place,  but  it's  swell-lookin'  when  you  set  foot  inside. 
You  know  where  Thompson  Street  is?  Well,  you 
walk  east  on  Thompson  about  six  blocks,  then  turn  to 
your  left  when  you  come  to  Blair,  and  go  up  Blair 
three  more  blocks,  and  there  you  are,  on  the  corner  of 
Squire.  You  can't  miss  it.  It's  sure  some  show- 
house  and  business !  why,  Ben  —  that's  my  brother-in- 
law  —  he  says  — " 

What  Ben,  the  brother-in-law,  said  was  lost  on 
Christine.  For  the  next  moment  or  two  she  was  con- 
scious only  of  the  drone  of  the  woman's  voice.  Her 
own  thoughts  engaged  her.  But  presently  the  other's 
words  began  to  hum  themselves  again  into  her  inner 
consciousness,  "  And  you'd  find  him  mighty  square 
and  white  if  you  ever  come  to  deal  with  him.  He 
ain't  like  most  pawnbrokers,  take  it  from  me,  but  sho', 
I  don't  suppose  a  fine  lady  like  you'd  ever  have  to 
darken  a  pawnshop's  door.  Though  you  never  can 
tell,  so  I  says  to  Jim,  and  I'd  do  Ben  a  good  turn  any 
time,  and  if  I  can  help  drum  up  business — " 

A  sudden  hysterical  desire  to  scream,  to  drown  out 
her  companion's  stream  of  words,  possessed  the  girl. 
Instead,  she  leaned  forward  and  pushed  the  button, 
and  the  next  moment  found  herself  clambering  out  of 
the  car. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  in  the  road,  staring  bewil- 
deredly  about  her.  Then  the  warning  shriek  of  a  huge 
automobile  truck  sent  her  flying  to  the  curb.  From 
the  haven  of  the  sidewalk  she  tried  to  orient  herself. 


156      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

She  was  in  the  midst  of  a  small  business-section  in  an 
outlying  district  of  the  city,  she  promptly  decided, 
from  the  curiously  unfamiliar,  foreign-looking  names 
that  met  her  eye  on  shop-windows  and  signs.  But 
what  was  the  name  of  the  street?  A  blue  and  white 
sign  posted  high  on  a  telegraph-pole  on  an  opposite 
corner  informed  her  "  Thompson  Street."  She  caught 
her  breath  in  a  quick  little  gasp.  Fate  had  certainly 
jogged  her  elbow.  For  a  full  moment  she  stood 
irresolute,  fingering  her  gold-woven  bag.  A  frown 
came  and  settled  itself  between  her  brows.  "  I  can't," 
she  said  half  aloud,  and  wheeled  sharply  about.  She 
had  already  taken  a  few  steps  up  the  first  cross-street 
when  again  she  stopped  short.  She  had  the  look  of 
one  who  was  seeing  with  the  eyes  of  memory.  And 
of  a  truth  she  was.  A  tired  old  head  bent  low  over 
a  tiny  pink-checked  sock  of  a  sudden  filmed  itself  in 
her  mind. 

Quietly  she  turned  back  to  Thompson  Street,  and 
with  her  shoulders  and  chin  well  up,  walked  rapidly 
down  the  street.  With  her  easy,  pliant  gait  she 
reached  the  corner  of  Squire  and  Blair  in  less  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  Before  the  Empire  Theatre,  with 
its  gaudy  fagade  and  still  gaudier  posters,  she  paused, 
and  to  all  appearances  was  soon  lost  in  admiration  of 
the  thrilling  scenes  from  the  "  Blood-red  Lily  "  so  al- 
luringly displayed  on  the  signboards  before  the  theatre 
and  in  the  framed  photographs  that  flanked  the  narrow 
lobby.  But  her  mind  was  fretting  in  circles.  She 
couldn't,  she  simply  couldn't  make  her  feet  carry  her, 
Christine  Trevor,  into  a  pawnshop.  But  Daffy  and 
Dilly  needed  shoes  and  socks  and  things.  A  Trevor 


AN  EMPTY  PURSE  157 

couldn't  go  barefoot.  They  were  not  beggars  yet. 
She  would  fit  them  out  this  once,  and  when  she  was 
Mrs.  Cortland  Van  Ness  —  Cort  would  never  for- 
give her  if  he  knew  she  had  ever  entered  a  pawnshop. 
He  wouldn't  understand.  He  was  proud  of  her  be- 
cause she  was  —  well,  not  unpleasant  to  look  at  and 
always  carefully  groomed  and  gowned,  but  it  would 
detract  from  her  worth  in  his  eyes  if  she  had  to  humble 
herself  in  this  horrible  fashion.  He  would  consider 
that  she  had  lost  some  of  her  attractiveness.  Oh,  it 
was  out  of  the  question.  She  would  have  to  tell  him, 
for  some  day  he  would  miss  her  jewels.  She  couldn't 
bear  the  look  of  surprised  contempt  that  would  flash 
from  his  snapping  black  eyes.  With  Docky,  now,  it 
would  be  different.  He  would  be  all  kind  sympathy. 
But  then,  he  was  older.  He  knew  people  of  all  sorts, 
mostly  poor  ones,  while  Cort  had  never  mingled  except 
with  the  very  rich.  To  him  wealth  with  all  its  appur- 
tenances was  as  the  breath  of  his  nostrils,  his  without 
question.  She  couldn't.  She  would  tell  Amelia  — 
but  the  twins  were  in  real  need.  She  had  given  Amelia 
her  promise.  She  could  not  go  home  empty-handed. 

Her  cheeks  were  a  crimson  flame  and  her  eyes 
gleamed  black  with  excitement  and  nervous  apprehen- 
sion as  with  a  swift  backward  glance  to  assure  herself 
that  she  was  unobserved,  she  darted  into  Ben  Arndt's 
pawnshop.  Dimly  she  was  conscious  that  a  half 
dozen  customers  were  already  crowding  the  dingy, 
musty  shop.  But  she  was  too  wrapped  in  her  own 
wretchedness  to  notice  them,  though  one,  a  slatternly 
creature  barely  covered  by  a  ragged  kimono  which 
vainly  she  tried  to  hold  together,  a  huge  black  welt 


158      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

across  her  forehead,  almost  lurched  against  her  in  her 
stumbling  haste  to  spend  the  coins  which  she  held 
clutched  in  one  trembling  hand. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Miss  ?  "  came  from  some- 
where out  of  the  mental  fog  which  enveloped  her,  in  a 
metallic  voice  which,  curiously  enough,  made  her 
think  of  clinking  coins.  She  found  herself  gazing  up 
at  a  dark-faced,  dark-browed  man  with  eyes  that 
seemed  to  dart  everywhere.  There  was  that  in  his 
manner  which  made  her  grasp  that  this  was  the  pro- 
prietor, the  mighty  white,  square  brother-in-law,  Ben 
Arndt. 

For  answer  she  thrust  a  hand  into  her  bag,  and  drew 
out  for  his  inspection  a  dinner-ring  of  sapphires  and 
diamonds  in  the  shape  of  a  scarab,  and  a  string  of  ex- 
quisitely selected  pearls  which  matched  the  color  of 
her  throat. 

A  wild  thrill  of  pain  ran  through  her  when  her  pre- 
cious possessions  lay  in  the  huge,  hairy  hand.  It  was 
not  yet  too  late.  She  could  snatch  them  back  —  the 
ring  that  had  been  her  father's  last  birthday  gift,  and 
the  pearls  that  he  had  clasped  with  quiet  pride  around 
her  throat  the  night  of  her  debutante  ball.  How  far 
away  it  all  seemed  now,  the  beautiful  old  replica  of  a 
Tudor  castle  dressed  in  its  best  and  decked  as  if  for  a 
bride  in  rarest  hot-house  flowers  and  gay  with  butter- 
flies and  birds,  and  her  own  radiant  self  in  a  shimmer- 
ing mass  of  crystal-beaded  tulle  over  lustrous  white 
satin!  She  could  see  herself  as  she  had  danced  away 
from  her  father  to  a  mirror.  Shining-bright  eyes  had 
smiled  back  at  her  from  her  reflected  self,  as  with 
laughing  lips  she  had  leaned  forward,  the  better  to 
take  stock  of  the  slim  young  figure  with  the  crisp, 


AN  EMPTY  PURSE  159 

round  bare  shoulders  rising  like  a  calyx  from  the 
sheath  of  the  silver  bodice,  the  finely  molded  arms  in 
their  cloud  of  mist,  the  full,  delicate  throat  with  its 
circlet  of  pearls.  She  could  hear  her  own  voice  ex- 
claim with  rapture,  "  Why,  father,  I  don't  look  half 
bad  to-night,"  and  his  broken  rejoinder,  "  You  were 
never  more  like  your  beautiful  mother." 

Suddenly  the  picture  blurred.  The  metallic  voice 
of  the  pawnbroker  was  suavely  demanding,  "  What  do 
you  want  on  'em,  lady?  " 

Christine  stared  for  a  breath  with  puzzled,  unseeing 
eyes,  then  with  a  rush  came  back  to  herself,  "  Oh,  yes, 
money,  you  mean.  Please  give  me  just  the  very  most 
you  can." 

Out  in  the  street  again  she  filled  her  lungs  exultantly 
with  a  deep  breath  of  the  sun-warmed  air,  as  she 
crammed  a  white  ticket  and  a  roll  of  bills,  smaller  by 
a  third  for  her  inexperience,  into  her  purse.  She  had 
"  put  over  "  the  horrid  business,  and  now  she  could 
lose  herself  in  the  delights  of  shopping.  And  lose  her- 
self she  did  for  the  next  two  hours. 
•  Christine  always  had  a  fondness  for  "  purple  and 
fine  linen,"  so  with  her  old-time  superb  disregard  for 
such  mundane  trifles  as  the  cost  of  things,  she  plunged 
into  one  of  the  most  exclusive  of  the  city  stores.  For 
a  time  she  bought  lavishly,  recklessly,  to  the  silent 
admiration  of  the  young  saleswomen  who  had  served 
her  so  often  in  the.  golden  past.  When  the  hour  of 
reckoning  came,  however,  she  found  to  her  dismay 
that  only  one  limp  two-dollar  bill  was  tucked  away  in 
the  recesses  of  her  purse,  and  there  were  several  items 
still  to  be  checked  off  her  list,  and  as  yet  she  had  not 
lunched.  For  a  moment,  but  only  for  a  moment,  she 


160      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

hesitated,  then  with  smiling  lips  asked  for  a  volume  of 
historical  tales  that  she  knew  Laurie  had  been  secretly 
craving.  She  would  "  do  up  brown  "  the  role  of  elder 
sister.  When  the  book  had  been  added  to  her  pur- 
chases, the  tiny,  diamond  monogrammed  coin-purse 
which  nestled  in  the  shimmering  bag  boasted  of  but 
one  coin  —  a  fifty-cent  piece. 

As  she  emerged  from  the  revolving  doors  she  paused 
for  the  fraction  of  a  breath.  Her  perfectly  healthy 
young  appetite  was  asserting  itself  determinedly. 
Should  she  stay  herself  somewhere  on  a  sandwich  and 
a  cup  of  tea,  or  make  at  once  for  home?  Then  what 
she  had  been  dreading  in  the  hinterland  of  her  mind 
all  during  this  glorious  frenzy  of  shopping  came  to 
pass. 

A  head  of  over-yellow  hair  draped  beneath  a  hat 
brimming  with  violets  was  leaning  from  a  window  of 
an  opulent  limousine  drawn  up  at  the  curb,  and  over- 
carmined  lips  were  speaking  her  name. 

"  Christine  Trevor,  oh,  Christine !  "  With  a  hand 
delicately  gloved  in  lavender  Mrs.  Potts  was  beckon- 
ing her  effusively. 

Reluctantly  Christine  advanced.  Mrs.  Potts  had 
never  been  a  favorite  with  her,  though  once  or  twice 
she  had  perforce  accepted  that  matron's  lavish  hospi- 
tality with  which  she  had  sought  to  court  the  favor  of 
the  season's  debutantes. 

In  a  city  where  of  late  millionaires  sprang  up  over- 
night like  some  mushroom  growth,  the  George  Pottses 
were  the  newest  of  the  newly  rich.  Their  wealth  had 
come  like  a  fabulous  golden  shower  from  the  inven- 
tion of  an  automobile  engine,  and  in  their  dazed  won- 
der at  their  Midas  touch,  they  had  transformed  only 


AN  EMPTY  PURSE  161 

the  outer  shell.  To  her  still  clung  the  aroma  of  the 
waitress  she  had  been  less  than  a  decade  before  and  he 
had  not  changed  a  whit  from  loud-mouthed,  coarse- 
spoken,  good-natured  George  Potts,  the  machinist. 

"  Awf'ly  glad  to  see  you  again.  Naughty  girl  not 
to  let  your  friends  get  even  a  peek  at  you.  You 
weren't  home  when  Harriet  Randall  and  I  drove  out 
all  that  way  just  a  purpose  to  call  on  you.  But  there, 
I  don't  know  as  I  much  blame  you  for  not  wantin'  to 
gallivant  for  ,a  while,  seein'  what  a  stroke  of  bad  luck 
you  had.  Doin'  up  the  town  for  the  day?  Can't  I 
give  you  a  lift?"  Mrs.  Potts  concluded  shrilly,  one 
hand  toying  ostentatiously  with  a  lorgnette  chain  of 
massive  amethysts  and  pearls  which  accentuated  the 
striking  violet  note  of  her  costume. 

"  No,  thank  you  just  the  same."  Christine  managed 
to  smile  pleasantly.  "  I'm  on  my  way  home.  I've 
been  playing  Santa  Claus  — " 

"  We'll  miss  you  at  the  Ashbys'  dinner-dance  to- 
night. Things  don't  seem  to  move  like  they  did  when 
you  were  our  queen  bee.  But  it  won't  be  long  now 
before  you'll  be  comin'  back  to  us  again.  Thank  glory, 
—  people  in  mournin'  don't  stay  out  of  things  long 
like  they  used. 

"  Well,  but  I  am  all  agog  over  that  shindig  to-night, 
and,  believe  me,  I'll  be  in  the  bald-headed  row  to  get  a 
good  squint  at  that  wonderful  Carlina.  Of  course,  you 
know  they  hooked  her  and  her  chorus  to  open  up  their 
Roman  —  or  is  it  Greek  ?  —  theatre.  Too  bad  you  can't 
see  her.  You're  such  a  crack  dancer  yourself.  We're 
goin'  to  set  up  some  such  joint  ourselves  in  that  new 
piece  of  land  we've  bought  next  to  our  grounds. 
Dearie  me,  I  must  be  off,"  with  a  glance  at  her  tiny 


162      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

diamond-encrusted  wrist  watch,  "  I  promised  to  pick 
up  Georgia  Crane  and  Harriet  Randall  on  my  way  to 
the  Club.  Hope  you'll  be  home  next  time  when  I 
rumble  out  to  see  you."  With  another  wave  of  the 
hand  Mrs.  Potts  dismissed  Christine. 

The  girl  followed  the  departing  limousine  with 
amused  eyes.  What  an  impossible  woman  she  was! 
How  she  had  beamed  when  she  mentioned  her  newly 
won  acquaintance  with  the  Ashbys  whose  aristocratic 
citadel  everyone  knew  George  Potts  had  strategically 
assailed  by  a  brilliant  business  maneuver. 

Of  course  she,  Christine,  had  known  the  Ashbys  were 
giving  one  of  their  famous  dinner-dances  that  night, 
for  Mrs.  Ashby  had  written  her  the  friendliest  note  in 
the  world  but  a  fortnight  before  to  tell  her  what  a 
break  in  their  inner  circle  she  was  making  by  her  ab- 
sence from  the  opening  of  the  Greek  theatre,  the  plans 
for  which  they  had  so  often  discussed. 

The  note  had  told  her,  too,  that  Carlina,  that  bright, 
particular  star  who  had  danced  her  way  into  the  hearts 
of  two  continents,  had  condescended  to  appear. 

For  months  now  it  had  been  Christine's  dearest  de- 
sire to  see  her.  Cort  had  offered  that  as  one  of  the 
delights  of  their  New  York  flitting. 

How  often  she  herself  had  been  the  pivot  of  the 
Ashby  gaieties,  and  to-night  she  could  not  be  there, 
could  not,  for  even  were  she  back  once  more  in  the 
round  of  social  life,  there  was  the  all-important  item 
of  gowns  and  jewels  and  motor-cars  which  now  —  her 
lips  settled  into  a  straight  line;  once  let  her  be  Mrs. 
Cortland  Van  Ness  and  there  would  be  no  such  prob- 
lems. 

She  shrugged  her  way  back  to  realities.     She  had 


AN  EMPTY  PURSE  163 

more  important  matters  to  put  through  for  the  present. 
In  the  first  instance  she  was  hungry.  For  a  moment 
she  dallied  with  the  temptation  of  fancying  herself  in 
the  peacock  room  of  the  club.  Rudolph  would  smile 
his  brightest  as  he  adjusted  her  chair,  and  served  her 
with  his  best.  He  had  always  been  her  ready  slave. 
He  would  whisper  deferentially,  "  Some  exqueesite 
truffles  to-day,  Mees  Trevor,  and — " 

There  would  be  no  truffles  for  her  that  day,  nor  for 
many  days  to  come.  The  most  her  one  small  'coin 
could  command  with  car-fare  to  consider  was  a  sand- 
wich and  a  cup  of  tea,  and  that  in  some  cheap,  out- 
of-the-way  corner. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  block  she  found  her  cheap, 
out-of-the-way  corner.  It  was  a  snowy-tiled  serve- 
self.  For  a  moment  she  hesitated.  It  looked  clean, 
but  of  course  the  food  would  be  execrable  and  the 
place  would  overflow  with  sweaty-browed  working- 
men  and  women.  She  would  climb  into  the  car  — 
Her  wrist-watch  warned  her  that  the  next  suburban 
car  was  not  due  for  a  full  half -hour,  and  she  was 
fairly  famished.  But  she  could  never  eat  among  the 
hoi-polloi  in  a  serve-self.  She  must  — 

A  girl  in  a  cheap  but  smart  black  silk  suit  and  tailor 
hat  pressed  past,  and,  her  hand  on  the  restaurant  door, 
flashed  a  quick  but  unmistakable  glance  of  recognition 
at  Christine.  The  prick  of  curiosity  proved  stronger 
than  the  stab  of  hunger.  Christine  came  to  one  of 
her  quick  decisions.  She  would  follow  the  girl. 
Perhaps  that  way  adventure  lay. 

The  girl  had  already  possessed  herself  of  a  tray  with 
a  paper  napkin  encasing  knife,  fork  and  spoon. 
Christine  snatched  up  one.  At  the  counter  the  girl 


164      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

let  her  eye  wander  deliberately  down  the  printed  list 
on  the  back-wall,  then  ordered  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  choc- 
olate eclair.  When  the  white-aproned  maid  set  the 
desired  articles  on  her  tray,  the  girl  with  another  quick 
stare  at  Christine  who  stood  close  beside  her,  passed 
to  the  desk  where  she  nonchalantly  flipped  down  a 
coin 

Christine  duplicated  the  order,  and  balancing  the 
tray  a  bit  awkwardly,  stepped  up  behind  her  to  the 
desk.  Fifteen  cents  her  check  read.  She  thrust  one 
hand  in  her  bag,  confidently  at  first,  then  frantically. 
Her  tiny  coin-purse  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XV 

JENNIE  CHUBB  AND  AN  ENVELOPE 

Red  burned  high  in  Christine's  cheeks,  and  a  look 

of  mortification  showed  in  the  gold-irised  brown  eyes. 

"I  —  why  —  I  — "    she    stammered   to    the   young 

person  with  bronze-smooth  hair  at  the  cashier's  desk, 
j " 

A  coin  was  pressed  into  her  hand.  Startled,  she 
glanced  about.  Which  of  the  many  tray-bearers  good- 
naturedly  jostling  her  and  one  another  was  the  donor? 
There  was  nothing  to  help  her  decide.  With  an  ex- 
plosive sigh  of  relief  she  thrust  coin  and  check  under 
the  grating,  and  snatching  up  the  ten-cent  piece  which 
appeared  with  lightning-quick  rapidity,  fled  to  the 
nearest  table  where  she  proceeded  to  remove  the  con- 
tents of  her  tray. 

"I  —  beg  your  pardon.  I  didn't  notice  this  was 
your  — "  hastily  she  began  to  replace  the  paper-napkin 
enfolded  knife,  fork  and  spoon  on  the  battered  server, 
but  a  hand  was  put  out  to  restrain  her,  and  the  black- 
silk  garbed  girl  with  the  unmistakable  glint  of  recog- 
nition in  her  glance,  invited  breezily,  "  Don't  mind  me. 
No  reserved  seats  here,  you  know.  Anyhow,  one 
place's  bad's  'nother  right  now.  This  little  old  joint's 
always  packed  like  a  box  of  socks  at  feedin'  time. 
Besides,"  she  went  on,  with  a  short,  unsteady  laugh, 
"  I've  been  try  in'  to  make  you  come  here  —  with  my 
lamps,  I  mean.  You  see,"  her  voice  was  perfectly  cool 

165 


1 66      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

and  level  now,  but  the  eyes  that  she  lifted  to  Christine's 
were  a  blue  flame,  "  I've  been  layin'  for  you  for  a  while 
back  and  now  at  last  I've  got  you." 

Before  Christine  in  her  astonishment  could  speak, 
her  companion  had  helped  herself  to  an  overlarge  bite 
of  chocolate  eclair,  and  was  observing  a  bit  indistinctly 
therefrom,  "  A  course  you  don't  know  me  any  more 
than  a  gray  squirrel,  now  do  you?  No,  'tain't  likely 
you  would.  But  I  got  you  the  sec'  I  lamped  you,  and 
now  that  you're  here,"  she  burst  out,  with  a  sudden 
note  of  passion,  "  I'm  goin'  to  get  my  money's  worth." 

"  Your  money's  worth,"  Christine  repeated,  in  an 
accent  of  profound  surprise.  Bewilderedly  she  turned 
this  over  and  over  in  her  mind,  then  she  reached  one 
of  her  quick  decisions.  She  leaned  forward  with  her 
most  engaging  smile.  "Of  course,  it  was  you  who 
put  that  blessed  quarter  in  my  hand.  I  was  wondering 
and  wondering  who  saved  my  life.  I  was  all  ready 
to  sink  through  the  floor  when  — " 

"  Cut  it,"  commanded  the  girl  shortly.  "  They  ain't 
time  for  that  now  —  I've  got  to  get  back  on  the  jump 
this  noon,  and  I  wanna  get  this  off  my  chest.  I  —  I'd 
'a'  done  that  for  any  sister,"  she  added,  a  whit  more 
gently,  "  so  don't  you  get  het  up  about  nothin'." 

For  the  moment  she  seemed  all  absorbed  in  scraping 
every  trace  of  the  chocolate  eclair  from  the  plate. 
Halfway  on  its  journey  to  her  lips  she  flung  down  the 
spoon.  "  Look  at  me,"  she  commanded,  with  a  fierce- 
ness that  made  Christine  set  down  her  cup  untasted. 
"  Don't  you  remember  me,  honest  to  God  ?  Look." 

Christine  looked,  searching  her  memory.  It  was  a 
pretty  face,  with  a  small  straight  nose,  a  saucy  chin 


i67 

and  dimples  in  the  corners  of  the  coralled  lips,  though 
the  rouge-dashed  cheeks  were  appallingly  sunken  and 
the  eyes  darkly  shadowed. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  Christine  shook  her  head. 

"  I  see  where  I  have  to  introduce  myself.  Miss 
Christine  Trevor,  meet  Miss  Jennie  Chubb,"  she  said, 
with  ironic  politeness.  "You  don't  know  me  yet? 
Well,  I'm  the  girl  what  sold  you  a  filet  lace  blouse  at 
Madame  Roselle's  a  year  ago  this  May,  and  you  lost 
your  pearl  pin,  and  said  I  hooked  it." 

Christine  made  a  slight  exclamation,  and  color 
scorched  her  cheeks. 

"  You  got  me  now,  huh  ?  " 

"  Y-yes,  I  remember  now,  but  you  gave  it  back 
and—" 

'  You  mean  you  got  it  back  and  for  you  that  was 
about  all  there  was  to  the  mess." 

Christine  positively  gaped  at  her.  "  Whatever  do 
you  mean?  " 

The  other  girl  gripped  the  edge  of  the  table  as  if  to 
catch  control  of  herself,  then  she  brought  out  with 
fire,  "  The  only  thing  you  had  in  your  head  was  your 
precious  pearl  pin.  It  never  even  came  into  your 
noodle  I  was  a  human  bein',  a  girl  with  a  heart  and  a 
body,  and,  yes,  a  soul,  just  like  you.  Say,  honest 
now,"  she  fixed  Christine  with  burning  eyes,  "  did  you 
ever  give  me  a  thought?  Did  it  ever  once  come  to 
you  to  wonder  what  I  got  after  you  had  your  pin?  " 

Christine's  lips  moved  mechanically,  but  no  words 
came. 

"  I'll  let  you  in  on  my  dark  past,  then.  You  was 
dead  sure,  you  remember,  ready  to  swear  to  the  Ma- 


1 68      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

dame  that  I  was  the  only  person  who'd  been  in  the 
room  while  you  was  havin'  that  fittin',  now  wasn't 
you?" 

The  memory  of  the  hateful  scene  in  the  rose-hung 
fitting-room  with  its  disarray  of  gossamery  lace 
blouses,  and  herself  the  central  figure  with  the  girl, 
who  was  now  her  vis-a-vis,  hovering  over  her  to  as- 
sist, advise,  direct,  flashed  into  Christine's  stimulated 
memory.  She  nodded. 

"  And  then  you  jumped  in  with  both  feet  and 
squealed  to  Madame  that  when  I  went  back  into  the 
shop  for  another  load  of  blouses  to  suit  your  fancy, 
I  was  gone  a  beast  of  a  time."  Without  waiting  for 
confirmation,  she  hurried  on,  as  if  urged  by  a  memory 
still  red-hot  and  excoriating,  "  After  that,  the  Ma- 
dame had  me  searched  —  didn't  she?  —  and  she  didn't 
find  it  on  me,  but  the  store  detective  wasn't  slow  in 
lightin'  on  it  in  my  locker.  It's  a  cinch  you  haven't 
forgotten  that,  but  that's  as  far  as  it  went  for 
you." 

Christine  made  no  sound.  All  her  distress  was  in 
her  eyes. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you  the  rest,  now,  for  two  rea- 
sons —  Katie  died  over  a  month  ago  from  the  con, 
and  I  — "  under  the  edge  of  the  glass-covered  table 
her  fingers  clutched  at  a  small  black-silk  bag  swung  on 
her  left  arm.  "  Well,  I  shan't  tell  you  the  other  rea- 
son just  now.  It's  good  enough  to  keep,"  her  voice 
shook  with  defiance. 

"I  —  I  don't  just  understand  — "  began  Christine, 
with  unusual  humility.  The  hot,  crowded  surround- 
ings, the  clatter  of  dishes,  the  babel  of  shouted  orders 
and  snatches  of  loud  conversation,  her  companion's 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AND  AN  ENVELOPE      169 

passionate  anger  and  unconcealed  desire  for  revenge 
were  thoroughly  upsetting.  "  Katie  — "  she  broke  off 
and  looked  questioningly  at  the  other  girl. 

"  She  was  that  tall,  swell-lookin'  blonde  that  worked 
in  the  blue  room.  Remember  her?  She  used  to  kid 
herself  she  looked  like  you.  You  didn't  see  her  come 
in  —  you  were  all  for  choosin'  between  two  stunnin' 
blouses  I  was  showin'  you  —  but  I  did,  and  I  saw  her 
cop  your  pin.  Oh,  she  didn't  come  in  for  that  —  she 
wanted  to  see  your  hair  do-up.  She  was  sort  of  scared 
when  you  knocked  your  gown  off  the  hook,  and  when 
she  almost  stepped  on  your  pin  she  was  in  a  purple  fit. 
I  saw  it  all  in  the  mirror.  You  was  talkin'  and  talkin' 
about  the  difference  in  the  thread  of  the  lace  and  I 
answered  you,  but  I  had  my  eye  -peeled  for  her.  She 
looked  round,  careless-like.  We  both  looked  busy. 
Then  I  saw  her  drop  her  handkerchief  and  pick  it  up. 
She  hung  around  a  minute  and  then  slipped  out.  It 
was  dead  easy,  now  wasn't  it?" 

"  But  I  don't  understand.     It  was  in  your  locker." 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  was  dead  easy,  too. 

"  When  I  trotted  back  into  the  shop  for  some  more 
blouses  to  show  you,  I  went  plump  to  Katie  and  told 
her  what  I  seen.  She  didn't  even  try  to  deny  it.  She 
said  she  hooked  it  and  then  got  scared  and  flung  it 
into  my  coat-pocket.  She  said  she  must  have  went 
crazy  to  touch  it,  and  then  she  started  in  to  cry  and 
tell  me  the  doctor 'd  told  her  the  night  before  she  had 
the  con  and  must  get  out  into  the  country  and  she  hadn't 
a  cent  saved  up,  and  she  saw  your  pin  and  she  thought 
—  oh,  you  know,  it's  the  same  old  bunk.  You  had 
everythin'  and  she  didn't  have  but  one  shirt  to  her 
back,  and  all  that." 


170      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  But  why  didn't  you  tell  Madame  that  when  the  pin 
was  found  in  your  coat?  " 

To  the  end  of  her  life  Christine  never  forgot  the 
look  that  those  blue  eyes  flashed.  It  set  her  face 
aflame. 

"The  girl  was  dyin',  didn't  you  hear?"  was  the 
only  answer  she  made.  A  minute  came  and  went  in 
which  she  leisurely  opened  her  bag  and  before  its  mi- 
nute mirror  powdered  her  nose  and  adjusted  her  hat 
to  a  more  coquettish  angle.  "  Well,  now  that  you've 
heard  my  sob-story,  I'd  better  be  movin',  or  I'll  lose 
my  job  in  the  kennel.  Not  that  I'd  much  mind  that 
—  now."  Again  her  fingers  sought  the  little  black 
silk  wrist-bag. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  and  tell  me  the  whole 
story?  "  Christine  demanded,  putting  out  her  hand  im- 
pulsively. The  other  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders  with 
a  gesture  of  utter  hopelessness  that  hurt  Christine. 

"  The  crazy  thought  did  come  into  my  head  once 
when  I  was  down  and  out,  I  mean  when  it  seemed  as 
if  I  just  never  could  get  a  job  again,  but  then  what'd 
'a'  been  the  use?  You  wouldn't  'a'  believed  me  —  I 
couldn't  've  told  you  about  Katie  then  —  it's  on  the 
level,  now  she's  gone  —  and  you  wouldn't  've  under- 
stood. How  could  you?  I'm  a  workin'  girl  and 
you're  a  —  a  rich  female  loafer." 

For  a  long  moment  the  last  words  hummed  them- 
selves over  and  over  in  Christine's  mind.  A  rich  fe- 
male loafer!  So  that  was  this  girl's  estimate  of  her, 
vulgarly  put  as  it  was.  And  though  she  was  rich  no 
longer,  she  was  still  merely  that  —  an  idler,  a  trifler, 
a  female  loafer  in  the  busy  world  of  workers  in  whose 
vortex  she  was  for  the  moment  caught  up. 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AND  AN  ENVELOPE      171 

"  Where  are  you  now?  You  spoke  of  losing  your 
job  if  you're  late.  You  did  find  something  to  do?  " 

The  girl's  lips  parted  in  a  bitter  little  smile.  "If 
you  call  it  a  job.  I  sell  socks  in  Kennedy's  basement. 
Ever  been  there?  But  a'course  not.  And  I  didn't 
light  on  that  neither  till  I'd  tramped  my  shoes  into  rags. 
Queer,  wasn't  it,  how  that  pearl-pin  yarn  dogged  me 
about?  Gee,  but  it  looked  like  heaven  to  me,  though, 
when  Mr.  Murphy  said  he'd  take  me  on.  Now,  I  —  I 
— know  different.  It's  worse  than  a  kennel.  A  dog 
gets  light  and  air,  but  that's  more  than  — " 

"  You  shan't  stay  there  another  hour ! "  In  her 
glowing  hot  indignation  Christine  half -rose  to  her  feet. 
"I'll—  Oh!"  With  a  smothered  little  cry  she 
dropped  back  in  her  seat.  "  I  keep  forgetting  things 
are  —  different,  and  —  my  word  wouldn't  have  any 
influence  now.  But  I  am  sorry,"  she  ended,  with  a 
•note  so  genuine  that  a  look  of  pleased  surprise  swept 
into  Jennie's  face. 

But  the  next  instant  her  face  settled  into  its  hard 
lines  again,  and  she  broke  into  a  mirthless  little  laugh. 
"  Say,  it'd  'a'  done  me  good  even  to  hear  you  say  that 
a  while  back,  let  alone  you're  tryin'  to  help  me,  but  it 
don't  much  matter  now." 

A  minute  ticked  itself  away  before  she  spoke  again, 
and  then  it  was  with  a  burning  resentment  that  made 
Christine  unable  to  raise  her  eyes  from  her  plate. 
"  Lordy,  but  didn't  I  get  pretty  nearly  on  speakin' 
terms  with  the  devil  those  weeks  and  weeks  and  weeks ! 
There  ain't  much  use  talkin'  about  that  now,  though, 
and  every  second  I  stay  here  spielin'  away  helps  my 
chance  to  get  bounced.  But  I  don't  care  " —  openly 
now  she  fingered  her  wrist-bag.  "  Say,  but  I  got  to 


172      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

hatin'  and  hatin'  and  hatin'  you  till  it  seemed  like  the 
whole  world  was  one  big  mess  of  hate — " 

"  But  I  didn't  understand,"  came  Christine's  faint 
protest. 

"Of  course  you  didn't.  You  rich  ones  never  do. 
How  should  you?  But  I'm  goin'  to  be  one  of  you 
now,"  she  flung  up  her  pretty  head  in  defiance. 
"Haven't  I  the  right  to  live  same  as  you?  Ain't  I 
sick  enough  to  die  of  patchin'  and  darnin'  and  never 
havin'  enough  to  eat?  It's  just  like  he  wrote,  it's  a 
burnin'  shame  a  good-lookin'  thing  like  me  should 
slave  her  life  away  in  a  cellar.  I  tell  you,  I'm  dog- 
tired  of  it  all." 

For  a  moment  after  she  had  finished  the  silence  re- 
mained unbroken.  Christine  sat,  eyes  downcast,  re- 
volving in  her  mind  the  curious  situation  in  which  she 
found  herself,  and  the  even  more  curious  love-prob- 
lem into  which  her  intensely  vital  young  companion 
was  involving  at  least  her  interest  and  sympathy.  The 
other  girl,  too,  seemed  all  absorbed  in  her  own 
thoughts.  Suddenly  she  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Well,  so  long."  Then  with  a  laugh  filled  with 
a  reckless  gayety  she  added,  "  When  you  see  me  again, 
I'll  be  worth  a  once-over.  I'm  goin'  to  be  lit  up  with 
oceans  of  real  diamonds  and  I'll  be  ridin'  in  my  own 
bus,  and  clothes  —  oh  " —  she  clasped  her  hands  in 
ecstasy  as  one  who  sees  a  vision  of  happiness  fulfilled 
—  "  I'll  be  wearin'  regular  clothes." 

Christine  came  to  her  feet,  too.  On  a  sudden,  queer, 
thoroughly  inexplicable  impulse  she  decided  she  must 
know  more  of  this  girl.  Something  drew  her,  im- 
pelled her  to  keep  close  to  her.  A  faint  fear  even  be- 
gan to  possess  her  that  somehow  she  would  lose  sight 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AND  AN  ENVELOPE      173 

of  her.  It  was  as  if  a  sixth  sense  was  prompting  her 
when  she  essayed,  "  Let  me  walk  with  you?  I've  noth- 
ing better  to  do  for  a  short  time,"  and  she  flashed  the 
other  girl  the  smile  that  always  warmed  the  heart  of 
the  recipient. 

"  You  walk  with  me !  "  Jennie  stammered  in  in- 
credulity. "  You  wouldn't  if  you  knew.  You 
wouldn't  — " 

For  answer  Christine  slipped  her  arm  through  Jen- 
nie's, and  so  they  made  their  way  side  by  side  through 
the  pressing  crowd  of  workers  hurrying  back  to  their 
posts. 

"When  do  you  leave  Kennedy's?"  Christine  broke 
an  awkward  little  silence. 

"  Any  old  time."  Jennie's  tone  was  nonchalant, 
but  she  held  her  face  averted.  "I  —  I  got  a  letter 
from  him  this  mornin'.  He's  your  kind,"  she  flung 
up  her  head  with  a  quick,  defiant  pride.  "  He's  — " 
She  broke  off,  and  seemed  to  be  struggling  to  contain 
herself,  then  went  on  somewhat  irrelevantly,  "  I  met 
him  some  time  back  at  our  Salesgirls'  Charity  Ball, 
and  he  fell  for  me  right  on  the  spot.  But  then  I 
wasn't  feelin'  like  I  do  now.  Some  days  I've  a  hunch 
I'll  be  a  down-and-out  one  like  Katie,  and  I  can't  sleep 
a-nights,  thinkin'  and  thinkin'.  Last  night  I  dropped 
in  to  see  a  doctor  —  I've  been  havin'  a  pain  in  my 
chest  just  like  it  started  with  her  —  and  he  sure  scared 
me  into  purple  fits  tellin'  me  things  to  eat  and  do  and 
live  easy  and  out-of-doors.  Lots  he  knows,"  with  a 
sniff  of  scorn,  "  about  Kennedy's  basement,  and  then 
this  here  letter  comes  to-day,  and  I'm  goin'  to  do  it. 
Well,  here  we  are,  and  good-bye." 

Jennie  had  already  set  her  foot  in  the  vault-like  en- 


174      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

trance  of  Kennedy's  Emporium  when  she  suddenly 
darted  back  to  Christine  who  was  standing  uncertainly 
on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  a  bit  bewildered  by  the 
abruptness  of  her  companion's  departure.  Jennie's 
face  showed  a  curious  blending  of  emotion,  pride,  de- 
spair, defiance  as  she  caught  at  Christine's  hand.  "  I 
s'pose  you'll  think  I'm  fresh,  but,  but,"  her  words  came 
in  breathless  haste,  "  it's  been  just  like  a  little  bit  of 
sunshine  and  the  country  to  have  you  walk  along  like 
that  with  me,  like  we  was  friends,  you  know,  and  after 
what  —  say,  I  don't  s'pose  you'll  ever  speak  to  me 
again."  Her  blue  eyes  were  lifted  in  a  child's  wist- 
fulness. 

"Why  not?  Perhaps  we  won't  ever  meet  after 
you're  married,  but  if  we  do — " 

"Married?"  Jennie's  tone  echoed  in  Christine's 
ear  for  many  a  day.  "  Oh,  not  that." 

Christine  simply  stared. 

"  I  thought  you  —  understood.  It's  the  other," 
Jennie  half  whispered.  "  He  ain't  goin'  to  marry  me, 
but  he's  rich,  and'll  give  me  everything  and  I'm  down- 
and-out,  I  tell  you,  and  a  sick  un,  too,"  she  whimpered. 

In  Christine's  youthful  judgment  black  was  black, 
and  white  was  white.  There  was  no  gray.  But  sud- 
denly something  stronger  than  the  moral  principles 
which  had  been  the  gift  of  generations  of  pure-minded 
women,  with  all  their  inhibitions,  and  upright,  clean- 
handed men  possessed  her.  She  experienced  no  mental 
shrinking  from  Jennie  Chubb.  Her  only  thought  was 
that  here  was  a  young  girl  like  herself,  dancing  on 
the  edge  of  a  precipice,  and  she  must  stretch  out  a 
hand  to  draw  her  'back.  Perhaps  the  mantle  of  her 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AND  AN  ENVELOPE      175 

gracious  mother,  who  would  have  known  how  to  meet 
this  difficult  problem  with  a  wise  and  far-seeing  spirit 
of  fellowship,  descended  for  this  brief  second  of  time 
on  the  inexperienced  young  shoulders  of  her  daughter. 
At  any  rate,  her  response  to  the  moment's  need  was 
instant. 

With  a  gentleness  that  told  that  the  petals  of  her 
heart,  once  so  tightly  closed,  were  slowly,  slowly  open- 
ing to  the  sunlight  of  human  needs  and  human  claims, 
she  put  her  hand  on  Jennie's  thin  little  arm,  and  drew 
her  apart  from  the  curiously  staring  gaze  of  the  young 
salesgirls  who  were  trooping  through  the  door. 

"  I'm  only  a  girl  like  yourself,  Jennie,"  she  said,  in 
a  voice  so  low  that  the  other  had  to  draw  nearer  to 
catch  the  words,  "  and  I  don't  know  how  to  talk  about 
—  things  like  that.  But  if  you  do  —  it  —  that  — 
what  you  said,  you'll  be  a  lame  dog  all  your  days.  I 
can't  explain  —  oh,"  her  face  lighted  with  a  sudden 
inspiration,  "  let  me  come  to  see  you.  I  want  to  give 
you  back  your  money,  anyhow,  and  — " 

"  I  couldn't  see  you  here  no  ways,"  began  Jennie 
doubtfully. 

"  Not  here.  At  your  room."  With  her  fine  intu- 
ition she  was  quick  to  divine  the  trend  of  the  other's 
thought.  "  You  needn't  care  about  that.  It's  you  I 
want  to  see." 

There  was  a  tense  moment  in  which  Jennie  battled 
with  herself,  and  the  battle  was  imaged  in  the  blue 
eyes.  Then  she  gave  her  companion  a  long,  intense, 
searching  look  which  made  Christine's  blood  quicken 
and  her  breath  come  uncontrollably  fast.  Inexplicable 
as  it  was,  she  felt  she  was  being  weighed  in  the  bal- 


1 76      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

ance.  A  wordless  prayer  formed  that  she  would  not 
be  found  wanting.  As  she  met  the  other's  gaze 
squarely,  an  aching  emotion  rilled  her. 

"  A  lame  dog,"  Jennie's  lips  formed  the  words.  "  I 
—  I  see  what  you  mean.  I'm  no  better  now  than  a 
dog  in  a  kennel,"  she  said,  lifting  her  chin  with  the 
air  of  defiance  that  seemed  so  much  a  part  of  her,  "  but 
I've  never  been  a  lame  dog  yet." 

With  ringers  that  trembled  she  spread  open  her  black 
silk  bag  and  brought  forth  an  envelope.  For  a  breath 
she  regarded  it.  Christine  saw  her  face  turn  sickly 
pale  under  its  layer  of  powder  and  rouge,  and  her 
eyes  suddenly  overflow.  "  It's  —  it's  goin'  to  be 
darned  hard,"  she  half  sobbed.  Then  with  a  quick 
bracing  of  her  shoulders  she  drew  from  the  envelope 
several  thin  sheets  of  paper  covered  with  a  huge  sprawl- 
ing handwriting,  and  tore  them  into  bits,  which  she 
scattered  in  the  gutter. 

"  Here's  my  address,"  she  handed  the  envelope  to 
Christine.  "  You  —  you  can  see  for  yourself  the 
other  reason  I  told  you  about  your  pearl  pin." 

Christine  folded  the  envelope  into  a  small  square, 
and  tucked  it  into  her  gold-meshed  bag.  "  I  must  run 
now,"  she  said,  with  a  hasty  movement  of  the  wrist 
that  held  her  watch.  "  Good-bye,  Jennie,  and  don't 
forget  I'm  your  debtor  for  life." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CHRISTINE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

The  day  held  one  more  chance  encounter  for  Chris- 
tine. She  was  working  her  way  determinedly  through 
the  odd  medley  of  travelers  always  to  be  found  in  a 
suburban-car  waiting-room  when  a  hand  was  laid  on 
her  shoulder  and  she  felt  herself  pivoted  about. 

Her  frown  and  half-uttered  exclamation  of  impa- 
tience changed  into  a  warm  smile  of  recognition  and  an 
outburst  of  surprised  jubilation  when  she  found  her- 
self in  the  grasp  of  a  more  than  middle-aged  man  with 
a  shock  of  hair  still  black  and  black  eyes  in  which  the 
fires  of  youth  were  yet  burning. 

"  You,  Monsieur  Armande !  Why,  I  haven't  seen 
you  in  a  hundred  thousand  years.  Where  did  you 
come  from  ?  Did  you  dance  down  some  sunbeam  ? 
How  long  will  you  be  here,  and  where  have  you  put 
up?  Can't  I—" 

"  Softly,  softly,  Mees  Chreestine."  Still  possessed 
of  her  hand,  he  began  to  draw  her  out  of  earshot  of 
some  bystanders  who  were  manifesting  a  quickening 
interest  in  the  unusually  pretty  girl  who  was  so  evi- 
dently thrilled  with  an  exulting  excitement.  "  Now, 
we  will  sit  here,  so."  He  escorted  her  gallantly  to  a 
seat  well  in  the  rear  of  the  waiting-room,  then  sat  down 
beside  her.  "  I  will  answer  your  questions,  as  you 
say,  in  good  order,-  hein,  Mees  Chreestine  ?  " 

177 


178     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"But  why  aren't  you  at  school?"  Christine  de- 
manded, impatient  of  her  companion's  grave  delibera- 
tion. "  Surely  you  haven't  given  up  the  dancing-les- 
sons. Oh,  that  would  almost  finish  Miss  Evans !  You 
know  you're  the  drawing  card  of  her  whole  school." 

"  No,  no,  not  that,  Mees  Chreestine;  I'm  here,  you 
say,  to  a  visit.  My  daughter,  Carlina,  comes  to-night 
for  a  dance,  and  she  wills  that  I  see  her  and  also  at 
the  same  time,  rest  for  a  short  time.  I  have  a  sort  of 
cousin  here,  and  my  doctor  says  a  little  rest  is  for  me 
good." 

"Carlina,  that  wonderful  dancer,  your  daughter? 
Oh,  Monsieur  Armande,  how  perfectly  splendid !  You 
always  said  you  were  her  teacher,  but  I  never  dreamed 
she  was  your  daughter." 

The  man  raised  his  head  with  a  curiously  foreign 
expression  of  pride.  "  You  speak  right.  She  is  won- 
derful, and,  most  wonderful,  she  is  mine  and  I  made 
her  what  she  is!  Ah!  What  triumphs  she  has  had, 
and  what  triumphs  she  will  yet  have !  "  He  clasped 
his  hands  with  an  almost  feminine  outburst  of  rap- 
ture, then  added  meditatively,  "  You  are  the  only 
Americaine  I  ever  saw,  Mees  Chreestine,  that  I  wished 
to  do  for.  You  had  a  —  a  chance,  you  say,  to  be  al- 
most, not  quite,  a  second  Carlina.  But  you  are  rich, 
you  have  no  need,  no  ambition.  I  could  have  made 
you — "  he  paused  on  the  unfinished  sentence  with  a 
little  gesture  of  despair. 

"  We're  not  rich  any  more,  Monsieur  Armande," 
Christine  informed  him,  with  her  native  honesty. 
"  Father  died  very  suddenly,  and  everything  was  in 
a  horrible  mix-up."  Her  straight  brows  twitched  into 
a  frown,  and  a  scarcely  audible  sigh  escaped  her ;  then 


CHRISTINE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY       179 

she  added,  with  an  odd,  careless  laugh,  "  But  didn't 
the  girls  tell  you  —  I  wrote  to  Grace  Austin  and  Mar- 
garet Cameron  and  Eva  Roberts  —  I'm  to  be  married 
soon." 

He  nodded,  studying  her  face  with  grave  intentness, 
"  To  that  young  Van  Ness.  He's  —  what  you  say  — 
a  money-bags,  hein,  Mees  Chreestine  ?  And  the  world 
has  lost  an  artiste." 

"  And  I  my  street-car,"  thought  Christine  ruefully, 
with  a  glance  out  of  the  tail  of  her  eye  at  her  wrist- 
watch.  Aloud  she  said  with  a  pretty  deference,  "  You 
surely  did  make  me  work  in  those  good  old  days,  Pro- 
fessor, but  I  never  in  all  my  life  was  so  happy.  I  wish 
—  sometimes,  I  wish  — "  Her  mobile  face  was  trans- 
figured for  an  instant  by  some  inner  light,  then  it  was 
gone.  She  frowned,  twisting  her  handkerchief  into 
a  grotesque  shape,  and  lapsed  into  silence. 

Her  companion,  too,  was  silent.  A  melancholy 
smile  played  about  his  lips,  and  in  his  eyes  was  the 
sadness  of  one  who  sees  visions  of  beauty  that  are  to 
remain  forever  unrealized.  "  Too  bad,  too  bad,"  he 
brought  out  abruptly,  then  with  a  sudden  return  to 
himself  and  his  surroundings,  "  But  I  must  not  keep 
you,  I  must  not  keep  myself.  I  wish  to  catch  the  next 
car  to  Hilton  —  my  cousin  lives  there.  You  will  come 
to  see  me,  Mees  Chreestine?  I  will  give  you  my  ad- 
dress." 

"  Of  course,  I'll  come,  Professor,"  the  girl  declared 
with  the  impetuosity  of  her  temperament,  as  she  drew 
out  her  ivory  tablets  and  pencil.  "  I'll  come  if  I  have 
to  move  all  the  stars  around  in  the  sky  and  push  the 
sun  and  the  moon  out  of  the  way  too." 

The  other  laughed  at  her  fervor.     "  So  like  my  Car- 


i8o      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

lina !  You  will  come  to  the  dance  to-night,  hein  ?  She 
will  be  ramssante.  No,  all,  I  see,"  he  said  with  a  quick 
glance  at  her  mourning  garb.  "  Poor  Mees  Chree- 
stine !  " 

"You  will  not  forget  me?"  he  called  out  from 
the  back  platform  of  the  moving  car  into  which  she 
had  assisted  him.  She  had  barely  time  to  give  a  reas- 
suring "  No,  indeed,  Professor,"  when  her  own  car 
started  forward  and  she  had  to  swing  herself  up  the 
high  step. 

That  was  a  superlatively  short  trolley  ride  for  Chris- 
tine. She  had  so  much  to  live  over  —  the  delightful 
shopping  expedition,  the  encounter  with  Mrs.  Potts, 
the  curious  experience  in  the  serve-self,  the  pleasant 
meeting  with  Professor  Armande  at  the  suburban  sta- 
tion. 

When  she  stepped  off  the  car  it  was  into  the  embrace 
of  the  twins  who  had  been  waiting  radiant-eyed  on  the 
edge  of  the  Trevor  grounds. 

"  You're  the  bestest  sister,"  Daffy  fairly  shrieked, 
hurtling  herself  against  Christine  almost  before  she 
had  set  foot  on  the  pavement.  "  Our  new  shoeses 
corned,  'n'  'Melia  tried  'em  on  — " 

"  'N'  our  socks,  too,"  piped  out  Dilly,  as  usual  the 
shrill  supplement  of  his  twin,  "  'n'  Laurie's  got  a  new 
book,  'n'  he  can't  hear  a  word  you  say.  He's  reading 
so  hard  'n'— " 

"  You're  just  n'orful  late  for  the  story,"  cut  in 
Daffy  reproachfully,  "  'n'  we  waited  'n'  waited  till  we 
was  'most  dead  — " 

"  'N'  now  you're  here,"  Dilly  said,  as  he  clung  like 
a  stick-fast  to  Christine's  hand,  "  'n'  we're  glad  'n' 


CHRISTINE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY      181 

you'll  tell  us  all  about  that  Moon-baby  all  over  again, 
won't  you,  Christine?" 

"  I  really  ought  —  I've  been  gone  since  early  morn- 
ing," the  girl  began  uncertainly,  but  the  pleading  little 
voices,  and  the  eager  clinging  hands  outweighed  her 
desire  for  rest,  a  bath,  and  a  change  of  clothes.  "  I'll 
tell  you  just  one  story  this  afternoon,  then  I  must  pos- 
itively attend  to  some  other  things." 

With  a  twin  on  either  hand,  to  the  accompaniment 
of  squeals  of  delight  she  hippety-hopped  across  the 
sunny  stretch  of  lawn  to  their  favorite  rendezvous  for 
the  afternoon. 

Laurie  was  already  settled  in  a  comfortable  chair, 
with  Christine's  gift  spread  open  in  his  lap.  He 
greeted  her  with  shining  eyes,  and  "  You're  just  bully, 
Christie.  It  came  about  an  hour  ago.  and  I'm  half 
through  already.  I  —  I  don't  know  just  how  to  thank 
you." 

"Pouf-pouf!  Thank  me — for  what?"  Christine 
camped  on  the  edge  of  a  rug  spread  over  his  feet. 
"  You  must  have  been  eating  it  up  to  be  that  far 
already." 

"  I  read  pretty  fast.  I'd  have  been  farther  along, 
but  I've  — "  He  broke  off  with  a  sudden  shamefaced- 
ness. 

Christine  followed  his  glance.  His  eyes  were  drawn 
as  if  irresistibly  to  their  neighbor's  garden.  There  in 
a  chaise-longue  lay  Joshua  Barton,  encased  as  usual  in 
a  mummy-like  wrapping  of  rugs  and  shawls  despite 
the  pleasant  warmth  of  the  May  sun.  By  his  side 
stood  his  crutches,  insignia  of  his  helpless  misery.  His 
eyes  were  closed  as  in  sleep,  but  on  his  ashen  face  was 


182      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

stamped  a  look  of  poignant  misery  and  suffering  that 
for  the  first  time  touched  the  girl. 

"  He  looks  mighty  sick,"  Laurie  half-whispered,  as 
if  afraid  to  rouse  the  sleeper,  "  and  just  awfully  sad." 

Christine's  mood  of  sympathy  for  Joshua  Barton 
was  fleeting.  "  Sad !  Not  he,"  she  tossed  the  word 
to  scorn.  "  Plain  hateful.  Why,  he  has  just  every- 
thing the  way  he  wants  —  heaps  of  money  and  every- 
body to  dance  as  he  whistles.  Of  course,  he's  lame 
and  all  that,  but  he's  an  out-and-out  grump.  He  prob- 
ably was  born  a  grump ;  anyhow,  it's  a  safe  bet,  he'll  die 
a  grump.  You've  been  letting  your  sympathy  run 
away  with  you,  old  dear." 

Laurie  shook  his  head,  unconvinced.  "  I  know," 
he  said  in  a  quiet  voice.  "  He's  lonely,  and  that's 
why  he's  a  grump.  I  know,"  he  repeated,  with  a 
quickly  withdrawn  glance  at  the  crutches  beside  his 
chair. 

"  You're  —  Daffy,  Dilly,  whatever  are  you  two 
squabbling  about?  Come  here,  twinnies,  and  kiss  and 
make  up.  I  thought  you  wanted  to  hear  all  about  the 
Moon-baby  who  wouldn't — " 

"  But  —  but,"  began  Dilly  boldly,  then  his  courage 
appeared  to  ooze  out  at  a  stern  glance  from  his  mate, 
and  an  even  more  peremptory  kick  in  the  shins. 

"  Daffy  Trevor,  that  isn't  nice  and  polite,"  Chris- 
tine remonstrated.  "  Ladies  don't  kick  like  mules. 
What  is  the  matter,  Chickie?  "  At  the  sweetly  plead- 
ing tone  and  the  arm  flung  caressingly  about  her  shoul- 
der, the  small  mutinous  face  showed  signs  of  yielding. 

"  I  did  it,  'n'  I  ought  to  tell,  oughtn't  I,  sister?  I'll 
-  I'll  tell  you  every  bit,  honest,  cross  my  heart  'n'  spit, 
only  you  tell  us  the  story  first." 


CHRISTINE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY      183 

But  past  experience  with  this  angelic-appearing  imp 
of  mischief  made  Christine  quick  to  sense  some  danger. 

"  Not  a  word  of  that  lovely  story  about  the  Moon- 
baby  who  wouldn't  —  until  you  'fess  up,  and  this  min- 
ute, too." 

Daffy  appeared  to  hesitate,  then  the  firm  look  in 
Christine's  eyes  which  she  had  come  to  know  and  re- 
spect, brought  her  to  the  point  of  confession.  "  Mis- 
ery wasn't  nowhere  'n'  'Melia  was  asleep,"  she  began, 
with  tantalizing  slowness,  then  eagerly  interrupted 
herself  to  ask,  "  Can  I  tell  what  I've  got  to  do,  like 
going  to  bed  or  not  having  any  supper,  you  know,  like 
the  Blueies?" 

"  Name  your  own  punishment?  Yes,  yes,  go  on, 
Daffy." 

"  'N'  the  doorbell  ranged,  'n'  he  wanted  you,  'n'  he 
said  he  was  in  a  hurry,  'n'  he  corned  right  in  'n'  he  sat 
down,  'n'  I  asked  him  perlitely  —  like  you  said  —  for 
his  coat  'n'  hat  'n'  — " 

"  I  tooked  'em  in  the  hall,"  broke  in  Dilly,  who  had 
been  quivering  with  impatience  to  share  in  his  twin's 
recital,  "  'n'  then  Daffy  said  we  should  play  grown-ups 
with  his  coat  'n'  hat  'n'  cane,  'n'  we  tooked  'em  out 
behind  the  barn  'n'  — " 

'  'N'  we  found  lots  'n'  lots  of  papers  in  the  pockets, 
not  a  teeny-weeny  bit  in  order,"  Daffy  airily  resumed 
the  narrative,  "  'n'  we  fixed  'em  all  in  nice  piles  'n' 
then  the  wind  came  'n'  blowed  some  of  'em  away,  'n' 
we  got  most  of  'em,  honest,  we  did,  Christine,  'n'  — 
say,  you  aren't  awful  mad — " 

But  Christine  had  thrust  aside  the  small  penitent  and 
was  running  toward  the  house,  her  feet  scarcely  touch- 
ing ground.  She  continued  with  unabated  speed  up 


1 84      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

the  front  steps  and  into  the  living-room  and  almost 
into  the  arms  of  a  thin,  bespectacled  little  man  with 
twitching  eyebrows  and  hands  that  were  always  rub- 
bing each  other,  who  had  come  forward  to  meet  her. 

"  I  thought  it  was  you,  Mr.  Graves,"  she  panted. 
"  I  just  this  moment  found  out  you  were  here.  Those 
wretched  little  imps  of  twins  never  told  me  till  now  — " 
she  had  to  pause  for  breath. 

"  I  was  in  a  bit  of  a  hurry,  Miss  Christine,  but  I've 
had  time  to  cool  my  heels.  The  next  car  doesn't  leave 
for  a  half-hour  yet,"  he  consulted  his  watch  with  his 
usual  deliberation.  "  That'll  give  me  ample  leisure  to 
go  over  all  the  details  of  the  business  matter  that 
brought  me  here.  I  — " 

"  Please  let  me  tell  you  first  of  the  prank  the  twins 
have  been  up  to,"  she  interrupted,  as  he  made  a  move- 
ment toward  the  hall.  "  They  played  with  your  over- 
coat and  hat,  and  —  lost  some  of  your  papers.  Oh, 
Mr.  Graves,  I  can  only  hope  they  weren't  of  any  great, 
great  value,  but  I'm  so  afraid  they  were.  Whatever 
shall  we  do  ?  " 

Mr.  Graves  looked  worried  and  the  look  of  worry 
had  deepened  when,  a  minute  or  two  later,  he  re-entered 
the  room,  with  several  bundles  of  papers  in  his  hands. 
"  I've  gone  over  things  very  hurriedly,  and  so  far  miss 
only  two.  One  a  blank  that  can  be  easily  feplaced,  but 
the  other  — .  I'm  afraid  unless  it's  returned  —  it 
might — "  He  compressed  his  thin  lips,  then  appar- 
ently banishing  whatever  misgivings  assailed  him, 
managed  to  smile  into  the  girl's  troubled  eyes. 

"  There,  there,  Miss  Christine,  it's  not  so  important 
as  all  that,  and  an  advertisement  in  the  papers  with  a 
little  reward'll  do  wonders." 


CHRISTINE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY      185 

"  Is  it  —  is  it,  a  paper  that  belonged  to  you?  " 

"  To  be  quite  frank  with  you,"  he  answered,  in  his 
slow  monotone,  after  a  moment  of  hesitation,  "  it  was 
a  statement  of  some  of  your  affairs  that  I  should  pre- 
fer not  to  have  fall  in  the  hands  of  anybody  other 
than  Dr.  Denton  just  at  present,  and  it  was  at  his  re- 
quest that  I  had  made  it  out." 

Color  began  to  flow  back  into  Christine's  cheeks. 
"  I'm  glad  no  one  else'll  have  to  suffer  for  those  twin- 
nies'  mischief.  I'll  scour  every  inch  of  the  neighbor- 
hood for  those  papers  myself." 

"  I  trust  you'll  find  at  least  the  one.  It'll  be  a  relief 
to  me  to  have  it  safe  in  my  possession  again.  And 
now,  Miss  Christine,  if  you'll  sit  beside  me  at  this 
table,  I'll  go  over  some  figures  with  you  as  best  I  can 
from  memory." 

With  characteristic  deliberation  and  love  of  detail 
he  entered  into  a  long  explanation  of  various  compli- 
cated business  transactions  that  the  final  winding-up 
of  her  father's  estate  had  entailed,  then  as  gently  as 
he  could,  acquainted  her  with  two  disquieting  facts. 
The  stock  that  had  been  yielding  them  nearly  half 
their  income  since  her  father's  death  had  failed  to 
pay  its  usual  quarterly  dividend,  and  experts  were  of 
the  opinion  that  the  corporation  never  again  would  re- 
gain itself.  Further,  the  past  night,  shortly  before 
midnight,  the  Trevor  warehouse  on  the  river's  edge 
had  burned  to  the  ground. 

"  That  means  there'll  be  no  rent  until  we  rebuild," 
he  said,  studying  her  through  narrowed  lids  to  see  if 
she  gathered  the  full  import  of  his  statement.  "  You 
understand?  " 

Christine  reflected  a  moment.     "  Yes,"  with  a  cer- 


1 86      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

tain  grave  simplicity.  "  You  mean  we'll  have  no  money 
at  all  to  depend  on  until  the  warehouse  is  rebuilt.  How 
soon'll  that  be?" 

"  Some  months,"  he  answered  evasively,  and  began 
to  fumble  with  the  papers  spread  out  before  him.  He 
cleared  his  throat.  "  You  see,  Miss  Christine,  we'll 
need  money  to  rebuild.  I'm  sorry  to  trouble  you  with 
these  unpleasant  matters  —  I  know  how  careful  your 
father  was  to  keep  his  women-folk  free  of  such  wor- 
ries —  but  what's  to  be  done  now  ?  You  have  to  un- 
derstand." He  cleared  his  throat  again.  "  As  I  was 
saying,  we  need  money  to  rebuild.  There'll  be  some 
insurance  —  almost  a  negligible  matter,  though  —  the 
building  was  hardly  half  covered  with  insurance. 
Your  father  planned  to  tear  the  warehouse  down  this 
fall  and  put  up  an  immense  structure,  so,  though  he 
considered  increasing  the  policy  once  or  twice,  he  let 
the  matter  rest." 

He  tapped  his  pencil  nervously  on  the  table,  then 
blurted  out,  "  The  only  way  out  I  can  see  at  the  present 
is  to  raise  money  on  this  house,  though  I  know  it'd  be 
the  last  thing  your  father  would  ever  do."  He  heaved 
the  sigh  of  relief  of  a  man  who  has  performed  a 
dreaded  task. 

"  What  does  Docky  think?  " 

"  That's  just  where  the  shoe  pinches.  He  went  east 
last  night  for  no  one  knows  how  long.  Didn't  give 
me  a  hint  he  was  going  —  must  have  been  something 
important  that  came  up  all  of  a  sudden,  and  the  devil 
of  it  all  —  I'm  sorry,  Miss  Christine,  but  this  is  such 
a  —  er  —  unfortunate  stroke  of  ill  luck,  I'm  hardly 
responsible  for  what  I  say  —  he  didn't  leave  an  ad- 
dress. Said  he'd  wire  in  a  couple  of  days,  and  this  is 


CHRISTINE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY      187 

a  matter  that  requires  immediate  action.  I've  got  to 
get  things  under  way  at  once  or  — 

Christine  regarded  him  with  sweet  seriousness. 
"  Father  always  trusted  you,  I  know,  and  we  children 
surely  do." 

A  sudden  mist  clouded  the  bespectacled  eyes. 
"  Thanks,  Miss  Christine,  you  can  count  on  me  to  do 
for  you  as  for  my  own." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  impulsively.  "  It's  fine  to 
have  friends  like  you  and  Docky  to  look  after  us.  I 
hate  to  see  you  look  so  worried,  though,  but  anyhow, 
it  won't  be  long  now  before  I'll  take  care  of  Laurie  and 
the  twins  as  the  family  of  Mrs.  Cort  Van  Ness,"  her 
head  went  high  in  unconscious  pride,  "  ought  to  be 
cared  for." 

"Of  course  I  shall  undoubtedly  not  take  any  decided 
measures  until  I  get  in  touch  with  Dr.  Denton,  though 
he  usually  leaves  all  matters  of  a  business  nature  in 
my  hands,  but  I  must  get  the  wheels  in  motion."  He 
began  to  gather  the  scattered  papers.  "  And,  Miss 
Christine,"  he  went  on,  rubbing  his  hands  together 
with  a  dry,  crackling  sound,  a  little  mannerism  that 
always  bespoke  interest  or  excitement,  "  I  think  it  best 
for  several  reasons  to  keep  it  quiet  that  we're  going  to 
throw  this  place  on  the  market.  You  see,  it'd  look  like 
a  case  of  dire  necessity,"  he  explained  as  if  on  second 
thought,  "  and  that  might  cut  down  its  value,  at  least, 
to  some  extent." 

In  the  doorway  he  turned.  "  If  you  should  obtain 
any  information  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  those  papers, 
you  would  notify  me  at  once.  Thanks,  I  wouldn't 
have  had  it  happen  —  but,  of  course,  Miss  Christine, 
it's  absolutely  of  no  consequence." 


1 88      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

In  the  late  afternoon  Christine  abandoned  her  sec- 
ond unavailing  search.  The  twins  were  her  indefat- 
igable aides  —  Daffy  had  chosen  that  as  part  of  their 
self-inflicted  punishment,  the  remainder  to  consist  of 
going  to  bed  an  hour  earlier  than  usual  for  a  whole 
week.  Together  the  three  had  scanned  every  inch  of 
the  Trevor  grounds  for  the  missing  papers. 

"  Could  they  have  blown  over  the  hedge,"  Chris- 
tine had  anxiously  asked.  Somehow,  the  knowledge 
was  borne  in  upon  her  that  Joshua  Barton  would 
be  the  last  person  to  whom  the  Trevor  family  secrets 
could  safely  be  entrusted. 

A  feeling  of  relief  swept  over  her  at  their  unani- 
mous statement  that  they  had  chased  them  a  short  dis- 
tance in  the  opposite  direction. 

Yet  she  had  scoured  under  the  hedge  and  on  either 
side  and  had  even  bounded  once  or  twice  across  the 
hedge  into  the  now  empty  Barton  grounds  to  clear 
away  her  doubts.  Not  a  scrap  of  paper  marred  the 
Barton  close-shaven  green  stretches. 

"  I'll  make  Doug  help  me  look,"  she  promised  her- 
self, wearily  trailing  into  the  living-room.  With  a 
little  cry  of  delight  she  swooped  down  on  the  pile  of 
mail  on  the  table.  "  Letters  —  one  from  Cort  — 
thanks  be."  A  smile  touched  her  lips,  and  winged 
with  the  exuberance  of  youth,  she  flew  up  the  stairs 
and  into  her  bedroom  as  if  there  was  no  such  word  as 
weariness  in  her  vocabulary.  The  next  instant  in  the 
depths  of  her  favorite  easy-chair  she  was  tearing 
through  the  badly  spelled,  badly  written  letter. 

The  smile  had  been  erased  from  her  lips,  and  her 
eyes  held  a  new  gravity  as  she  read  the  sheets  slowly 
for  the  second  time.  Then  with  a  curiously  disdain- 


CHRISTINE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY      189 

ful  gesture  she  tossed  them  on  the  floor.  For  a  time 
she  sat  motionless,  her  hands  clenched  as  if  she  were 
fighting  herself,  her  thoughts.  Then  she  rose,  and 
walked  to  the  open  window.  In  a  tree-top  close  by  a 
bird  was  pouring  out  his  heart  in  a  burst  of  rapture  to 
the  setting  sun.  That  was  all  that  broke  the  late 
afternoon  stillness. 

Christine  moved  away  from  the  window,  back  to  her 
easy-chair.  She  was  trying  to  collect  her  thoughts. 
What  was  she  to  do  ?  Cort  had  written  that  his  father 
had  decided  to  postpone  their  return  until  early  fall. 
Of  course,  that  would  be  deuced  hard  on  her,  and  he 
didn't  like  it  any  too  well  himself,  but  then  his  job 
for  the  present  was  to  stick  to  the  governor,  who  wasn't 
feeling  any  too  fit.  There  was  great  business  ahead, 
for  the  governor  and  Mr.  Archer  were  considering 
buying  some  old  silver  mines  and  other  junk.  He  and 
Ag  weren't  interested  except  that  they'd  probably  take 
a  run  up  the  mountains  with  their  governors  and  that 
promised  some  sport  in  riding  up  the  trails.  They'd 
been  to  a  dance  last  night.  Ag  had  promised  to  write 
her  a  full  account  of  the  fun.  Ag  was  a  great  old  girl 
but  not  to  be  named  in  the  same  day  with  his  own 
Chris.  They'd  have  some  wonderful  wedding  in  the 
early  fall,  and  he  had  a  hunch  the  governor  was  plan- 
ning to  give  them  a  silver  mine  or  some  such  trifle  for 
a  wedding  present. 

At  this  point  in  her  thoughts  Christine's  lips  twisted 
into  a  wry  little  smile.  A  silver  mine  or  some  such 
trifle  for  a  wedding  present,  and  the  Trevor  family 
was  facing  absolute  want!  Oh,  she  had  clearly  un- 
derstood what  Mr.  Graves  was  trying  in  all  delicacy 
to  express.  Except  for  this  roof  that  covered  them, 


190      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

they  stood  empty-handed.  Something  had  to  be  done, 
and  to  be  done  quickly,  and  who  was  there  but  she  to 
do  it? 

What  could  she  do? 

A  sudden  doubt  filled  her,  and  terror,  stark  terror, 
clutched  at  her  heart.  Then  a  quick  courage  followed 
on  the  doubt  and  terror.  Her  body  braced  itself  and 
with  the  swiftness  and  poignancy  of  an  inspiration  she 
knew  what  she  could  do.  The  idea  quickened  action. 
She  darted  to  the  dressing-table  where  she  had  thrown 
her  gold-meshed  purse.  In  it  were  her  tablets.  She 
would  find  Prof.  Armande's  address,  and  —  The 
purse  slipped  from  her  fingers  and  emptied  itself  on 
the  rug.  With  an  exclamation  of  impatience  she  flung 
herself  on  her  knees  to  collect  its  scattered  contents. 
Pencil,  coin-purse,  powder-case,  visiting  cards — what 
folded  paper  was  this?  An  envelope,  the  address  of 
the  girl  she  had  met  in  the  restaurant.  In  the  waning 
light  she  gave  the  envelope  a  hurried  glance  —  Miss 
Jennie  Chubb.  How  curiously  familiar  it  looked! 
She  glanced  at  it  again,  then  with  quivering  speed 
scrambled  to  her  feet  and  the  window.  She  stared  at 
the  envelope  incredulously.  Another  very  careful, 
very  deliberate  inspection,  then,  though  she  knew  the 
truth,  she  snapped  on  the  lights,  gathered  the  scattered 
sheets  of  her  letter  from  the  floor,  and  sat  down  at 
her  desk.  The  envelope  was  postmarked  Rio  Janeiro ; 
the  handwriting  was  the  same  almost  undecipherable 
scrawl  of  her  letter. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  BROOCH  WITH  THE  MEDUSA  HEAD 

For  those  who  have  not  wayfared  far  along  the 
path  of  life,  there  is  no  sharper  sting  than  disillusion. 
And  Christine  suffered  with  all  the  intensity  of  a  high- 
strung,  sensitive  nature.  A  woman  of  more  years, 
with  a  wider  range  of  experience,  might  have  palli- 
ated the  offense.  Cort  had  never  known  a  mother. 
The  idol  of  a  fabulously  wealthy  father,  he  had  been 
spoiled  from  the  very  cradle.  His  whole  life  had 
been  regulated  by  his  desires  and  with  him  every  im- 
pulse for  enjoyment  was  as  quickly  executed  as  con- 
ceived. His  keenest  sport  was  to  gratify  an  appar- 
ently ungratifiable  whimsy.  It  was  as  if  an  obstacle 
only  whetted  his  appetite.  Ambition,  purpose,  ideal, 
Cort  had  none.  His  only  aim  was  pleasure,  immedi- 
ate and  unlimited.  Though  it  never  entered  her  pretty 
hea<l,  Christine  had  been  the  object  of  his  keen,  hot 
pursuit  chiefly  because  there  were  so  many  rivals  to 
outdistance. 

Jennie  Chubb!  Christine  tossed  the  very  name  in 
her  thoughts  to  scorn.  Then  some  of  the  girl's  words 
flashed  back  ,  into  her  memory,  and  cut  her  with  a 
bitter  sharpness.  "  He's  your  kind."  "  He  fell  for 
me  the  first  instant  he  lamped  me."  Now  she  under- 
stood the  malice  that  had  glinted  in  Jennie's  eyes  and 
shot  from  her  nimble  tongue.  The  hatred  that  had 

191 


192      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

burned  within  her  for  upwards  of  a  year  had  culmi- 
nated in  this  opportunity  for  revenge.  She  did  not 
blame  Jennie,  poor,  pretty  Jennie,  with  her  sharp  ter- 
ror of  following  Katie's  suddenly  ended  career.  Her 
anger  and  grief  and  disillusionment  were  all  for  Cort. 

For  a  space  of  time  she  sat  with  her  head  bowed 
and  her  fingernails  dug  into  the  palms  of  her  hands. 
It  was  as  if  for  the  first  time  she  were  facing  life  with 
set  purpose,  and  she  was  finding  that  life  was  no  glad 
enterprise.  Then  she  lifted  her  head,  and  her  eyes 
with  their  flecks  of  gold,  revealed  a  high  steady  light. 
Slowly,  solemnly,  as  if  conscious  of  all  its  hidden  and 
future  significance,  she  drew  the  great  blazing  jewel 
from  her  left  hand,  and  placed  it  in  a  mother-of-pearl 
jewel-case  on  her  dressing-table.  With  steady  steps 
she  crossed  to  the  window,  and  settled  herself  among 
the  cushions  piled  invitingly  on  the  window-seat.  For 
a  time  she  stayed  there  motionless,  her  face  lifted  to 
the  quiet  night  sky  that  was  already  beginning  to  glearn. 
like  new  silver  with  stars.  She  was  striving  to  quiet 
the  stir  of  her  tumultuous  feelings,  to  cool  her  hot 
cheeks  in  the  wash  of  soft  air. 

From  her  retreat  she  saw  Doug's  boyish  form 
leap  the  hedge,  and  look  uncertainly  about  for  herself. 
To-night  she  would  fail  him  in  their  twilight  walk. 
She  must  have  this  time  for  herself.  She  had  knotted 
threads  to  disentangle.  She  caught  Wrinkle's  eager 
bark  of  welcome  followed  close  by  his  familiar  little 
whimper  of  distress,  his  lament  that  she  neglected  to 
keep  her  tryst. 

Only  Amelia's  peremptory  tap  at  the  door  and  her 
"  We're  waitin'  dinner  on  you,  this  minute ;  didn't  you 
hear  the  bell?"  roused  Christine  from  her  absorption. 


THE  BROOCH  193 

"  I've  no  appetite  to-night,  'Melia,"  she  answered 
listlessly  from  the  window-seat,  and  fell  a  prey  again 
to  her  warring  thoughts  before  the  old  woman's  steps 
had  died  away  in  the  hall. 

All  color  had  faded  from  the  evening  sky,  and  still 
she  sat,  wrapped  in  the  sorrow  of  disillusion.  Recol- 
lections were  crowding  in  upon  her,  sharp  as  a  knife, 
and  she  stood  face  to  face  with  all  that  she  had  put 
from  her,  all  that  she  could  dimly  sense  the  future 
held  for  her  —  gossip,  misunderstanding,  the  triumph 
of  Agnes  Archer. 

She  would  stand  utterly  alone  in  this  voluntary  ship- 
wreck of  her  life.  There  would  be  no  friend  to  un- 
derstand the  clarity  of  her  motive.  Suddenly,  clear 
as  a  cut  crystal,  she  conjured  up  a  face  out  of  the 
darkness,  and  the  smile  that  shone  in  the  depths  of  the 
fine  gray  eyes  made  her  pulse  quicken  and  lifted  up 
her  being  into  high  courage.  Docky  would  under- 
stand. He  always  understood. 

A  prey  to  quick  impulse,  she  ran  to  her  desk. 

"  Cort,"  her  hands  were  steady  now,  and  a  curious 
illumination  was  apparent  in  her  face.  It  was  as  if 
she  suddenly  saw  the  path  lying  straight  and  clear 
ahead.  "  Yesterday  quite  by  accident  I  happened  on 
Jennie  Chubb,  and  quite  by  accident,  too,  I  learned 
things.  You  will  see  that  after  that  things  are  not 
possible  between  us.  I  shall  give  you  back  your  ring 
when  you  come  home,  or  send  it  as  you  prefer.  Please 
don't  write  or  try  to  explain.  It's  all  over. 

"CHRISTINE." 

She  stood  up.     Her  heart  was  strangely  full,  her 


194      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

eyes  dangerously  close  to  tears,  but  curiously  enough 
they  were  not  tears  of  sorrow.  A  strange  sense  of 
freedom  was  flooding  her  being,  and  a  new  radiance  of 
vitality  thrilling  through  every  fibre.  It  was  as  though 
the  fingers  of  the  future  were  beckoning  her,  and  she 
knew  with  all  the  joy  of  the  fearless  adventurer  she 
was  free  to  follow. 

She  slept  that  night  the  deep,  dreamless,  unthinking 
sleep  of  a  child.  But  even  before  her  eyelids  lifted 
the  next  morning,  a  sense  of  profound  sadness  filled 
her,  and  her  wretchedness  of  the  night  before  became  a 
tangible  thing.  Resolutely  she  put  it  from  her  and 
wrapped  herself  in  her  garment  of  pride.  For  her, 
love  had  come  and  gone — forever.  Life  only  re- 
mained. All  the  gladness,  all  the  savor  was  gone,  to 
be  sure,  but  there  were  still  the  golden  heights  of  fame 
to  be  climbed.  A  sudden  enthusiasm  filled  her,  and 
the  sense  of  freedom  that  had  raised  her  to  enthusiasm 
the  night  before  again  shot  through  her,  and  lifted  her 
soul. 

The  fire  of  her  new  enthusiasm  was  still  on  her  face 
and  in  her  eyes  when  she  flitted  into  the  living-room. 
She  was  tailored  in  gray,  the  gray  of  the  winter-sky 
and  her  hat  of  gray  had  a  touch  of  violet  under  its 
wide  drooping  brim. 

"  Laurie,"  lightly  she  placed  a  hand  on  the  boy's 
shoulder.  Startled,  he  glanced  up.  He  had  been  too 
absorbed  in  his  task  of  writing  a  letter  —  for  him  al- 
ways a  real  task  —  to  hear  her  light  foot- fall.  "  I'll 
be  late  again  for  our  lesson.  I'm  sorry,  but  it's  im- 
portant business." 

A  fleeting  shadow  of  disappointment  was  discern- 
ible in  his  voice.  "  It's  a  corker  of  an  interesting 


THE  BROOCH  195 

lesson,  and  I've  worked  at  it  like  a  good  fellow.  Why, 
how  — •  how  different  you  look !  " 

Color  flamed  in  Christine's  cheeks,  but  she  laughed 
in  quick  amusement  at  the  boy's  wondering  tone. 
"  Something  wrong  with  my  outfit  ?  I  rather  fancied 
it  myself." 

Laurie's  thoughtfulness  deepened,  and  he  studied  her 
with  puzzled  eyes.  "  It  isn't  that.  You  always  make 
a  fellow  forget  what  you  have  on.  He  only  thinks  of 
you.  It's  —  it's  your  eyes  and  your  whele  face  that 
look  changed.  It's,"  with  the  swiftness  and  sureness 
of  an  inspiration,  "  it's  something  to  do  with  your 
soul.  That's  changed,  and  it  shows." 

"  You're  a  wizard,  Laurie,"  Christine  tried  to  hide 
the  stir  of  her  emotions  under  her  full-throated  laugh, 
and  again  with  a  happy  consciousness  of  their  good 
fellowship,  patted  her  brother's  shoulder.  His  voice 
arrested  her  in  the  doorway.  "  How  do  you  spell  iso- 
lation, Chris?  Two  ll's?" 

"  One'll  be  enough.  What  are  you  doing  with  that 
big  word?"  Curiosity  edged  her  tone,  and  grew  as 
Laurie,  with  face  reddening,  attempted  to  conceal  the 
sheet  of  paper  he  had  been  poring  over  at  her  en- 
trance. "  A  secret  ?  Oh,  well,  I  won't  pry.  We  all 
have  our  secrets."  And  with  another  light  laugh  she 
was  gone. 

Her  hand  was  on  the  front-door  knob  when  the  un- 
mistakable sound  of  a  sob  halted  her.  Again  it  came, 
suppressed,  but  heart-rending.  She  looked  up  the 
well  of  the  stairs.  Misery  was  busily  wiping  the  white 
enamel  frame  of  the  upper  landing,  and  punctuating 
each  thrust  of  her  arm  with  a  little  hushed  wail. 

"Whatever   is  the  matter,   Misery?"     Christine's 


196      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

voice  was  tense  with  anxiety.  Amelia  was  far  from 
well  these  days,  and  Misery  was  their  only  real  staff 
in  the  care  of  the  house.  If  she  should  break 
down —  ! 

"  I  didn't  know  any  one  was  here.  Please  forgive 
me,  Miss  Christine,  but  it  makes  things  easier  some- 
times to  cry  'em  out,  and  I  —  it's  one  of  my  bad  days, 
when  I  can't  get  my  man  and  babe  what's  gone  out  of 
my  head.  And  then,  this  mornin'  early,  when  I  was 
cleanin'  my  room,  I  knocked  it  down  and  it  broke  in 
pieces,  and  he  gave  it  to  me  on  my  last  birthday,  and 
I'll  never  get  over  it,  no,  never,  never.  It  tain't  like 
it  was  an  ordinary  box,  Miss;  it's  a  real  jewelry  box, 
and  it's  filled  with  good  luck.  My  man  told  me  so,  and 
as  long  as  I'd  keep  it,  I'd  have  good  luck,  though 
Heaven  knows  it  wasn't  no  good  luck  to  lose  him,  but 
I  was  holdin'  it  tight  in  my  hands  the  day  Dr.  Denton 
come,  and  got  me  for  to  come  here,  and  that  was  sure 
good  luck  and  — " 

Christine  waited  with  all  the  patience  she  could  com- 
mand for  the  nimble  tongue  to  stop.  "  Suppose  you 
get  the  pieces.  There's  a  French  curio  shop  on  Lom- 
bard Street  and  the  little  old  shopkeeper's  a  perfect 
wonder.  He  once  mended  a  mosaic  picture  frame  for 
me." 

Misery  clasped  her  hands  with  an  ecstatic  gesture. 
"  If  it  wouldn't  be  askin'  too  much.  I'd  just  die  for 
you,  Miss  Christine,"  she  assured  her,  with  eyes  that 
still  streamed  as  she  gave  over  into  her  keeping  the 
neat  package  containing  the  precious  fragments. 

"  Better  live  for  me,  Misery.  You're  worth  heaps 
more  to  me  alive  than  dead.  Perhaps  your  box'll  scat- 
ter some  of  its  good  luck  on  me." 


THE  BROOCH  197 

Christine  stood  for  a  moment  after  she  had  caught 
the  suburban  car,  trying  to  steady  herself  to  the  mo- 
tion, then  moved  forward  to  an  empty  seat  well  toward 
the  front.  Above  the  babble  of  sound  she  heard  a  fa- 
miliar voice  speak  her  name  and  she  saw  Freddy  Blue 
two  seats  ahead,  smiling  and  waving  at  her. 

At  the  next  station  her  seatmate  departed  and  Freddy 
Blue,  fresh  as  the  May  morning  in  a  well-worn  blue 
serge  suit  and  nondescript  black  hat,  stowed  her  tall 
self  in  the  seat  beside  her. 

"  A  pleasure  all  the  sweeter  for  being  unex- 
pected," Freddy  smiled  companionably  down  at  her. 
"Whither  awa',  fair  lady?"  But  without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  she  proceeded  in  a  rush  of  words,  "  I'm 
going  to  get  out  at  Thorne  Road,  so  we'll  have  to  talk 
fast.  Poor  little  Mrs.  Lee  has  twins,  and  no  more  idea 
of  caring  for  them  than  a  —  a  butterfly.  I  promised 
Dr.  Denton  — " 

An  inexplicable  impulse  prompted  Christine  to 
interrupt  a  bit  importantly,  "  Docky  isn't  in  town. 
He's  gone  east  for  two  or  three  weeks." 

A  little  gleam  of  humor  shot  into  the  gray- 
green  eyes,  but  she  answered  gravely  enough,  "  I'm 
wondering  how  I'll  live  through  that  century.  We'll 
know  for  a  certainty  then — "  She  checked  herself 
abruptly  with  a  little  gesture  of  impatience  as  if  at 
the  looseness  of  her  tongue.  "  I  promised  Doctor 
Denton  I'd  come  out  here  every  day,"  she  said  irrel- 
evantly the  next  moment,  "  but  I  just  couldn't  manage 
yesterday,  and,  as  it  is,  I'm  up  to  my  forehead  in 
things." 

Of  course,  Freddy  knew  Docky  had  gone.  Chris- 
tine suddenly  became  cognizant  that  a  demon  of  jeal- 


198      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

ousy  was  stirring  in  her.  She  felt  it  burning  in  her 
heart,  she  felt  it  clutching  at  her  throat.  Freddy  had 
Docky's  perfect  love.  Love  for  her  was  done.  The 
blood  surged  to  her  face  and  receded,  leaving  her 
shaking  from  the  depth  of  her  feelings. 

But  she  managed  to  say  with  a  pretty  show  of  friend- 
liness, "  Bring  your  thousand-and-one  things  over  to 
a  cup  of  tea  this  afternoon." 

Freddy  shook  her  head  regretfully.  "  I've  got  to 
scour  the  attic  for  something  for  Tommy  to  wear  at 
Jennie  Eaton's  birthday  party.  Tommy's  always  gone 
since  she's  been  out  of  the  shell,  and  go  she  shall  this 
year  if  I  have  to  cut  up  the  lace  curtains."  Her  voice 
shook  with  unusual  fierce  determination. 

A  swift  desire  pulsed  in  Christine  in  some  way  to 
serve  Docky.  "  Things  equal  to  the  same  thing,"  she 
reasoned  whimsically  with  a  sudden  recollection  of  a 
familiar  geometrical  axiom.  It  would  make  him  happy 
if  Freddy  were  happy. 

"  I'm  coming  over  this  afternoon  to  your  house, 
Freddy  Blue,"  Christine  announced  with  a  touch  of 
her  old  imperiousness,  "  and  we're  going  to  make  Miss 
Tommy  a  most  recherche  gown  from  a  white  net  frock 
of  mine.  Now,  don't  argue,  because  it  won't  help  you 
a  mite.  I'm  coming  and  I  shall  camp  on  your  step  till 
you  open  the  door  for  me  and  my  thimble  and  the 
frock." 

She  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of  Freddy's  evident 
swaying  between  two  moods.  "  It  won't  be  more  than 
a  couple  of  hours'  work  at  the  most.  The  sash  is  all 
there,  and  I've  ribbons  for  her  hair.  What  time  shall 
we  make  it?  Three?  Speed  or  you'll  be  carried  to 
the  next  road." 


THE  BROOCH  199 

It  was  midway  between  nine  and  ten  when  Christine 
stepped  out  of  the  dimness  of  the  small  French  curio 
shop  into  the  brilliant  sunshine.  Contentment  filled 
her.  Misery's  good  luck  box  would  be  so  cunningly 
restored,  the  little  old  genius  of  the  workroom  had 
assured  her,  that  no  one  could  detect  the  juncture  of 
the  broken  parts. 

For  a  breath  she  stood  irresolute.  She  really  should 
ride.  It  would  be  all  of  a  twenty  minutes'  walk  and 
she  ought  to  arrive  fresh  for  the  lesson.  But  the  sun- 
light was  so  enchanting  and  she  would  love  a  brisk 
walk  along  the  city  streets  now  that  she  was  a  country 
mouse  or  to  speak  more  truthfully,  a  suburban  mouse. 
Then,  too,  she  ought  to  economize  her  time  for 
Laurie's  sake.  He  was  so  keen  for  that  history  les- 
son. 

A  car  was  rumbling  down  the  street.  With  a  little 
sigh  she  yielded  up  her  desire  and  at  that  Fate,  or  per- 
haps it  was  the  genius  of  good  luck  that  Misery  was 
confident  dwelt  in  her  treasure  box,  jogged  her  elbow. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  she  had  one  foot  off  the  curb  when 
a  tricksy  breeze  stirred  the  fragment  of  a  newspaper 
in  the  gutter  and  the  sun  sought  out  and  lingered  on  a 
copper-bronze  object.  Quickly  Christine  snatched  it 
up  and  ran  for  the  car.  When  she  was  in  her  seat,  she 
examined  her  find  with  languid  curiosity.  It  had  been 
a  brooch,  but  the  pin  had  been  wrenched  off.  The 
workmanship  was  curious,  evidently  foreign,  and  there 
was  that  in  the  strange  twist  of  the  bronze  snakes 
which  encircled  the  Medusa-head  of  old  agate  that 
made  Christine  decide  it  was  undoubtedly  an  antique. 
With  a  shrug  of  indifference  she  let  it  slip  into  her 
purse  and  from  her  memory.  In  roseate  day-dreams 


200      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

she    began    to    climb    the    rungs    of    fame's    ladder. 

She  lived  through  an  agony  of  apprehension  while 
she  was  waiting*  for  an  answer  to  her  touch  of  the 
door-bell  that  marked  her  journey's  end.  What  if  her 
dreams  had  been  mere  dreams?  Professor  Armande 
might  not  be  willing  to  help  her  climb  the  golden 
heights.  He —  But  the  next  instant  the  door  was 
thrown  open  by  Professor  Armande  himself,  and  the 
impetuosity  and  warm  eagerness  with  which  he  drew 
her  with  him  into  the  large  old-fashioned  drawing- 
room  banished  all  her  misgivings. 

With  a  grave  simplicity  she  told  him  of  her  new- 
found freedom.  "  But  I  don't  know  how  I  can  ever 
pay  you  if  you  do  take  me  under  your  wing,"  she 
wound  up  with  her  native  candor. 

"  Pay,  ma  cherie! "  His  hands  flew  out  in  an  ec- 
static gesture  and  his  words  tumbled  forth  pell-mell. 
"  We  do  not  talk  of  pay  now.  You  shall  be  great. 
You  shall  dance  and  draw  the  hearts  out  of  men. 
There  will  be  toil  and  toil,  much  toil  for  you  and  me. 
I  shall  not  regret  it,  you  shall  not  regret  it.  You 
have  temperament  —  beauty  —  form  —  youth ;  ah, 
ma  cherie,  you  have  everything.  My  Carlina  shall  — " 
He  broke  off  his  cataract  of  words,  and  darted  toward 
an  inner  room,  checked  himself  abruptly,  swung  about, 
and  seated  himself  on  a  sudden  impulse  at  the  open 
grand  piano  in  the  far  angle  of  the  huge  room.  Over 
his  shoulder  he  shouted,  even  while  his  hands  master- 
fully struck  some  chords,  "  I  am  sad,  Mees  Chreestine ; 
very  sad.  This  will  be  a  sorrowful  lesson.  My  Car- 
lina did  not  dance  at  your  Ashby  dinner  —  no  —  she 
has  suffered  —  what  you  say  —  a  great  loss.  She 
could  not  dance  with  a  heavy  heart.  To-day  she  has 


THE  BROOCH  201 

still  such  a  sadness  —  we  will  begin,  Mees  Chrees- 
tine." 

The  girl's  heart  leaped  tumultuously  to  the  fire  of  the 
music,  her  pulses  quickened,  and  she  slid  into  the 
rhythm  with  all  the  freedom  and  supple  grace  of  early 
youth. 

"  Good,"  he  murmured  once  or1  twice.  "  I  have  made 
no  mistake."  His  words  were  for  himself  as  he 
nodded  his  great  thatch  of  black  hair  in  approval. 

"  Now  we  try  something  light,  like  a  dream."  The 
music  melted  into  a  delicate  piece  of  improvisation,  and 
the  girl's  feet  obeyed  the  spirit  of  the  harmony  that 
was  flowing  from  his  finger-tips. 

"  Bravo,"  a  low  voice  that  held  in  it  a  silvery  thrill 
applauded  even  before  the  music  and  the  twinkling 
feet  were  stilled.  "  It  was  the  gray  tissue  of  dreams, 
Mademoiselle,  soft  and  fine  and  —  and  intangible  as  a 
cobweb."  There  was  in  the  voice  the  same  fascinat- 
ing foreign  intonation  that  clung  to  Monsieur  Ar- 
mande's  speech,  and  even  before  Christine  whirled 
about  she  knew  it  was  the  world- famed  Carlina  who 
complimented  her.  The  blood  rushed  singing  to 
Christine's  ears,  and  for  a  moment  the  world  seemed 
to  reel.  Then  it  steadied  itself  and  she  met  the  re- 
gard of  a  woman  in  the  middle  twenties,  slim  as  a 
Dryad.  Her  face  was  small,  and  dead  white,  with  lips 
that  seemed  but  a  scarlet  line.  Her  hair  which  was 
heavy  and  had  the  lustre  of  satin,  her  eyes,  her  brows, 
her  lashes  were  of  one  color,  black  as  a  blackbird's 
breast.  For  a  full  moment,  rapt  in  thought,  lips  apart, 
the  dancer  studied  the  young  face  with  the  well-poised 
head  and  eager,  questioning  gaze.  Then  with  one  of 
her  fascinating,  swaying  movements,  she  caught  both 


202      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Christine's  hands  in  hers  in  a  vibrant  clasp.  "  Ma 
chcrie,"  her  voice  shook  with  an  emotion  that  was  not 
far  from  tears,  "  you  have  the  gift,  the  great  gift,  but 
life  will  wring  your  heart's  blood  before  it  will  be  the 
perfect  gift." 

With  an  abruptness  that  was  startling  she  flung 
Christine's  hand  from  her,  and  walked,  no,  floated, 
toward  her  father.  "Ah,  no,  no,"  she  cried,  passion- 
ately in  answer  to  his  question  which  was  inaudible  to 
Christine's  ear,  "  I  shall  never,  never  dance  again.  It 
is  impossible.  He  gave  it  —  to  me  it  is  his  heart.  I 
can  not,"  and  she  burst  into  wild  weeping. 

"  My  Carlina,"  the  old  man  caressed  her  hair  as  if 
she  had  been  the  veriest  child.  "  My  Carlina,  it  will 
come  back.  It  must  come  back,"  then  he  turned  in 
quick  explanation  to  Christine  who  had  withdrawn 
herself  into  the  recess  of  the  bow-window.  "  My  Car- 
lina has  suffered  a  great  loss  —  she  cannot  dance  till 
it  is  recovered  —  yesterday  she  drove  out  in  the  late 
afternoon  for  air  —  she  stopped  at  one,  two,  three 
shops  —  somewhere,  no  one  can  tell  where  — she 
lost  a  brooch  —  a  gift  —  a  talisman  —  a  head  of 
snakes  — " 

Subsequently  Christine  could  recall  but  little  of  what 
immediately  followed,  but  she  had  a  jumbled  memory 
of  tearing  open  her  purse  and  thrusting  the  object  she 
had  caught  up  from  the  gutter  less  than  two  hours  be- 
fore into  Carlina's  hand.  The  room  was  immediately 
a  babel  of  glad  exclamations  and  broken  sentences. 

"  Le  bon  Dieu!  " 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  valuable." 

"  My  Carlina.     Mees  Chreestine,  ma  cherie." 

"  Lc  bon  Dieu!     Le  bon  Dieu." 


THE  BROOCH  203 

But  for  many  a  year  Christine  carried  the  memory 
of  the  perfect  moment,  when  Carlina  looked  deep  into 
her  eyes  and  said  with  quiet  fervor,  "  May  le  bon  Dieu 
reward  you.  The  time  will  come,  Mademoiselle,  I 
feel  it  in  my  heart,  when  I,  too,  can  be  of  some  service 
to  you." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DOUGLAS    TALKS 

Christine's  mood  was  a  curious  blend  of  emotions 
as,  suit-case  in  hand  that  afternoon,  she  proceeded  up 
the  steps  of  the  Blue  cottage  in  fulfillment  of  her  prom- 
ise to  Freddy.  Joy  still  thrilled  her  at  the  memory  of 
Carlina's  words  of  approval,  but  through  the  gold 
meshes  of  her  happiness  ran  a  tarnished  thread  — 
Cort's  faithlessness.  And  again  a  feeling  which  she 
had  but  that  morning  learned  to  know  by  its  true 
name,  jealousy,  shot  through  her  as  she  conjured  up 
the  quiet  contentment  that  shone  now  in  Freddy's  eyes. 
Freddy  could  well  be  content.  She  had  given  her 
heart  into  safekeeping.  Docky  would  be  true  to  the 
last  gasp.  He  would  never  — 

Her  musings  were  interrupted  by  the  bursting  open 
of  the  door,  and  Freddy's  cry  of  jubilation  as  she  flung 
herself  upon  Christine  with  unusual  impetuousness. 
"  You  dear !  I  haven't  dared  believe  you  meant  it. 
It  seemed  too  good  to  believe."  She  laughed,  but  in 
the  liquid  uncertainty  of  her  deep,  melodious  voice 
there  lurked  the  suspicion  of  tears  quivering  through 
her  mirth. 

She  unpinned  her  guest's  hat,  and  settled  her  in 
the  lovely  old  grandmotherly  chair  which  had  wel- 
comed Christine  on  her  first  unwilling  visit  to  the  Blue 
cottage,  before  she  added  exultantly  but  half  under 
her  breath,  "  It  won't  be  long  now  before  I  can  give 

204 


DOUGLAS  TALKS  205 

Tommy  and  Charlie  and  all  of  them  everything  they 
want" 

"  It  won't  be  long  now."  The  words  sent  a  stab  of 
pain  into  her  hearer's  heart,  and  to  hide  the  sudden 
quivering  of  her  lips  Christine  fumbled  for  all  of  a 
minute  at  the  lock  of  her  traveling-bag.  "  Here  are 
two  gowns  that  are  positively  excess  baggage,"  she 
said,  achieving  a  matter-of-fact  tone.  "  The  white 
net'll  make  Tommy  a  rather  decent  party  frock  — 
there's  enough  ribbon  for  her  baby  waist  and  hair  — 
and  this  blue  organdy  ought  to  make  her  some  sort  of 
a  Sunday  outfit." 

The  tall  girl  looked  at  her  out  of  wet  eyes.  "  I 
can't  begin  to  tell  you  — " 

"  Don't,"  interrupted  Christine,  with  a  touch  of 
her  old  imperiousness ;  "  we  haven't  time  and,  besides, 
the  kindness  is  all  on  your  side.  I  was  casting  about 
for  some  excuse  to  throw  myself  in  your  way  this 
afternoon  when  I  met  you  on  the  car." 

Christine  had  an  almost  fairy  touch  of  the  fingers. 
She  could  work  magic  with  a  bit  of  lace,  a  flower  and 
a  ribbon,  so  now  her  deft  hands  were  busily  planning 
a  garment  for  Tommy's  slim  body  out  of  the  snowy 
heap  of  lace  and  net  that  had  once  been  a  favorite 
dinner  gown,  before  she  eased  her  mind  by  saying, 
"  I'm  going  in  seriously  now  for  dancing." 

"  Seriously !  What  do  you  mean  ? "  Freddy 
gazed  at  her  curiously  over  the  billowy  mass  that  lay 
on  the  table.  She  had  chosen  the  tedious  task  of  rip- 
ping. She  was  more  at  home  with  darning  and  mend- 
ing and  such  Cinderella  work,  she  declared,  than  the 
art  of  creating  "  dreams  of  hats  and  frocks." 

Christine  did  not  meet  her  gaze.     "  It'll  probably  not 


206      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

be  seriously  at  first.  More  of  a  joke,  you  know,  but 
it's  sort  of  up  to  me  to  earn  a  living  for  Laurie  and 
the  twins,  and  all  I  can  do  is  dance." 

"  But  what'll  Cort  say?     He  won't  let  you." 

"  Cort  has  nothing  to  say  —  now." 

Freddy  asked  no  question.  It  was  her  eyes  that 
demanded  the  truth.  Christine  answered  quietly 
enough,  but  excitement  flamed  in  her  cheeks.  "  I  de- 
cided —  last  night  —  for  good  and  all.  It  can't  ever 
be  after — "  She  paused  on  her  unfinished  sentence. 

The  silence  that  followed  vibrated  with  meaning. 
Then  Freddy  did  what  was  a  rare  thing  for  her,  and 
Christine,  with  her  quick  intuitions,  understood.  She 
came  to  the  grandmotherly  chair,  and  gathered  its  oc- 
cupant, net,  ribbons,  lace  and  all,  into  her  arms  and 
kissed  her.  Then  very  quietly  she  went  on  ripping. 
The  only  reference  she  made  to  Christine's  confes- 
sion came  abruptly  at  the  close  of  the  afternoon's  suc- 
cessful labor  over  the  cup  of  tea  she  had  insisted  on 
brewing.  "  You've  told  Dr.  Denton  ?  "  Freddy  spoke 
slowly  and  with  grave  deliberation. 

Christine  met  the  fire  of  her  scrutiny  steadily,  then 
shook  her  head.  "  I  only  decided  last  night.  Be- 
sides, how  could  I  ?  He's  not  in  town." 

"  He  won't  let  you  dance.  He  doesn't  approve  of 
dancers.  I  remember  how  he  almost  quarreled  with 
that  little  Rose  Emmons'  father  for  letting  her  go  to 
New  York  to  study  stage-dancing  with  Bordoni.  He 
has  old-fashioned  ideas  about  the  things  a  woman 
can  do,  and  you,  above  any  one  else  — "  She  broke  off 
with  the  odd,  expressive  gesture  so  peculiarly  hers. 

Christine's  body  braced  itself  as  if  for  an  attack. 


DOUGLAS  TALKS  207 

"  I've  decided,"  she  said,  with  a  pretty,  defiant  lift  of 
the  head.  "  By  the  time  Docky  gets  back,  I'm  expect- 
ing to  be  at  least  a  second  Pavlowa."  Her  mouth 
twisted  into  a  little  smile  and  then,  because  they  were 
both  so  near  the  beginning  of  life,  they  laughed  in  full, 
light-hearted  merriment 

"  Here's  to  your  success,  my  dear,"  Freddy  rose, 
her  cup  of  tea  held  high.  Her  lips  were  curved  with 
mockery  but  a  serious  light  shone  in  her  eyes.  "If  it's 
your  wish  to  have  your  name  written  in  letters  of  fire 
on  the  sky  of  Broadway,  I  wish  it  for  you,  too." 

"  I  do  wish  it."  Christine's  hands  went  out  in  a 
sudden,  hungry  gesture.  "  I  want  life  and  big  things. 
I  want  adventure,  and  laughter,  oh,  plenty  of  laughter, 
and  sorrow,  too,  I  suppose,  is  bound  to  come.  Oh,  I 
want  fame,  and  wealth  and  everything,  everything  life 
can  give." 

"  And  all  I  want  is  a  home  and  —  little  ones." 
Freddy's  arms  involuntarily  moved  as  if  to  encircle  a 
small  head. 

It  was  a  pretty  setting :  the  snowy  tea-table,  fragrant 
with  white  lilacs,  the  open  window  with  its  glimpse  of 
an  old-fashioned  garden  drowsing  in  the  late  after- 
noon sun,  and  the  two  girls  on  the  edge  of  life  toast- 
ing each  other's  success  in  paths  so  widely  divergent. 

Tommy's  head  abruptly  inserted  in  the  living-room 
window  and  her  high  trebled  inquiry,  "  Is  my  party- 
dress  all  done,  Freddy?"  broke  the  spell  of  gazing 
into  the  future. 

A  sudden  thought  came  to  Christine,  quick  and 
sharp,  as  she  pulled  on  her  hat,  which  goaded  her  into 
saying  over  her  shoulder,  "  Don't  say  anything  to 


208      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Docky    about    my  —  about    me.     Promise.    Freddy." 

"  You  shall  tell  your  Docky  yourself.  We'll  have 
other  things  to  talk  about  when  he's  home." 

The  rapt  expression  in  the  odd,  gray-green  eyes 
tormented  Christine  throughout  her  homeward  walk. 

On  some  unaccountable  impulse  she  slowed  her  steps 
before  the  Barton  grounds  with  its  lavish  display  of 
smooth  shaven  lawn,  flowering  shrubs  and  first  show 
of  flowers.  As  always,  the  mummified  figure  of 
Joshua  Barton  lay  in  the  garden  chair  in  the  full  glare 
of  the  afternoon  sun.  This  time  he  was  not  alone.  A 
slim,  undersized,  boyish  figure  stood  but  a  few  feet 
away,  and  even  as  Christine  began  to  quicken  her  pace 
again  she  heard  the  familiar  stammer,  "I  —  I  d-don't 
think  I  c-can  do  it,  s-sir.w 

The  next  moment  an  involuntary  little  cry  broke 
from  her  and  she  ran  a  step  or  two  toward  the  boy. 
Joshua  Barton  had  struck  him  with  his  crutch. 

"  Will  you  c-come  for  a  d-drive  tonight  ?  "  Douglas 
asked  her  without  preamble,  at  their  twilight  tryst. 
"  I  n-need  you,"  he  added  simply. 

His  face  looked  white  and  drawn,  and  his  eyes  had 
the  hurt  look  of  a  child's. 

The  girl  disregarded  the  weariness  of  body  and 
spirit  that  were  weighing  her  down.  "  How's  eight 
o'clock?  I  must  tell  Daffy  and  Dilly  their  bedtime 
story  first." 

"  Make  it  seven-thirty.  Heaven  knows,  it'll  be  an 
eternity  till  then." 

"  Seven-thirty  it'll  be  to  the  second,  but  I'm  at  the 
wheel."  A  flash  of  mischief  stole  through  the  glance 
she  gave  him. 


DOUGLAS  TALKS  209 

But  he  was  all  gravity  as  he  answered,  "  That  g-goes 
without  saying." 

They  had  sped  for  several  miles  along  the  river's 
edge  under  stars  that  gleamed  silver-bright  and  a  moon 
that  was  riding  small  and  low  in  the  heavens,  before 
either  spoke.  Then  Christine  turned  to  him,  a  ques- 
tion on  her  lips.  "  When  are  you  going  to  tell  me, 
Doug?" 

"  You  must  think  me  a  selfish  b-brute  to  —  to  — " 

"  Tut  five  or  six  times.  Out  with  it,  man.  And 
let  me  warn  you,  it's  not  going  to  be  one-sided,  either. 
I  may  be  .induced  to  tell  you  the  cweet,  sad  story  of 
my  life." 

"  You  first." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  This  is  too  heavenly  to 
spoil  with  my  own  troubles,  besides,  at  this  precise  mo- 
ment, I  haven't  any.  Who  could  have,  with  a  wheel 
to  guide  on  a  road  like  this  and  on  a  night  like  this  ?  " 

"  And  in  such  c-company  as  I'm  in,  who  c-could  help 
being  h-happy  ? "  But  the  next  moment  he  had 
heaved  a  sigh  so  deep  and  long  that  it  was  almost  a 
sob. 

"  I'll  drive  up  just  beyond  the  bridge,  Doug. 
There's  a  splendid  bend  in  the  road  where  we  can  park 
the  car,  and  talk  to  our  hearts'  content." 

It  was  a  fair  setting  for  romance,  the  moon-white 
night,  the  river  flowing  by  so  darkly  mysterious,  and 
bearing  impartially  on  its  smooth  surface  pleasure 
craft  and  tall,  freighted  vessels,  the  trees  in  their  trap- 
pings of  green  which  so  softly  arched  over  the  auto- 
mobile with  its  occupants  in  the  early  exuberance  of 
youth.  But  it  was  no  romance  that  Christine  coaxed 
from  her  companion's  lips.  The  confession  began 


2io      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

with  a  question,  "  Has  a  man  the  right  to  tell  a  girl 
he  loves  her  and  wants  her  for  his  wife  if  his  father 
died  in  —  prison  ?  " 

Christine  hesitated,  and  she  knew  he  held  his  breath 
for  her  answer,  though  swiftly  she  realized,  too,  in 
that  consciousness  of  the  fellowship  which  bound  them 
together,  that  she  was  not  the  object  of  his  devotion. 

"  That's  a  pretty  big  question  for  me  to  riddle  out, 
Doug.  It  somehow  seems  all  to  depend  on  the  girl. 
I  mean  how  much  she  loves  the  man  and  all  that." 

"  Supposing  it  was  y-you."  A  wave  of  blood 
rushed  to  his  face,  as  the  full  import  of  his  words  swept 
over  him.  "  Oh,  C-Chris,  f-forgive  me,  I  didn't  mean 
—  I  didn't  think  — I  — I—"  He  broke  off  in  an 
agony  of  embarrassment  and  pain. 

She  leaned  a  breath  closer  to  him,  her  eyes  full  of 
thought,  and  met  his  regard  steadily.  "  I  understand, 
Doug.  That's  what  I'm  trying  to  do,  I'm  trying  to  put 
myself  in  that  girl's  place.  I  believe  — "  She  didn't 
say  what  she  believed.  For  though  she  tried  and  tried 
hard  to  put  herself  in  the  place  of  the  other  girl,  she 
found  she  was  thinking  only  of  herself  and  Cort  and 
his  faithlessness.  Her  love  had  not  been  big  enough 
to  withstand  that.  Then  for  the  first  time  she  faced 
the  question  that  had  been  burning  in  the  back  of  her 
mind  —  did  she,  had  she,  ever  truly  loved  Cort  ?  And 
before  the  answer  came  or  perhaps  as  answer  the  face 
of  Dr.  Denton,  with  the  grave,  deep-set  eyes  and  the 
steady  lips  that  with  their  smile  could  send  unexpected 
pulses  of  happiness  throughout  her  whole  being, 
painted  itself  on  her  memory.  In  the  stillness  of  the 
night  she  learned  her  own  heart's  secret. 

For  a  time  —  so  long  that  Douglas  lived  through  an 


DOUGLAS  TALKS  211 

agony  of  doubts  —  she  neither  moved  nor  spoke. 
Then  with  the  sensation  of  being  very  small,  very  in- 
significant, she  said,  in  a  low,  unsteady  way,  "  Love 
makes  anything,  everything  possible." 

And  her  eyes  were  wet  with  the  sadness  that  lurks 
in  loneliness.  For  she  would  always  be  lonely  now. 

"  Thank  God !  "  He  spoke  the  words  almost  in- 
audibly.  "  You've  given  me  c-courage,"  he  said, 
after  a  moment,  "  and,  Lord  knows  I  need  c-courage 
worst  of  anything.  I  really  don't  k-know  where  to 
begin,"  he  went  on,  helplessly,  "  I — " 

"  Begin  at  the  beginning." 

"  I  think  I  t-told  you  before  that  Uncle  Joshua 
p-picked  me  up  as  a  stray  at  an  orphan  asylum  after 
father  died.  I  don't  know  much  about  that  b-beastly 
trouble  except  that  Uncle  Joshua  always  h-hated  him, 
so  Mark  once  t-told  me.  Oh,  Uncle  Joshua's  a  great 
old  hater,  and  when  father  g-got  into  some  s-sort  of  a 
mess,  and  forged  the  old  d-duck's  name.  Uncle  Joshua 
had  his  own  b-brother  put  over  the  road.  Poor  old 
father  couldn't  stand  the  s-shame  and  all,  so  he  up  and 
d-died.  And  in  all  these  years  Uncle  Joshua's  never 
for  a  minute  let  me  forget  I'm  the  s-son  of  a  prison- 
bird,  and  he's  in  the  habit  of  predicting  I'll  end  up  that 
way,  myself." 

The  bitterness  of  his  tone  brought  her  out  of  the 
tumult  of  her  own  emotions.  "You  poor  boy!  How 
have  you  stood  it  all  these  years?  " 

"  My  mother  was  Irish,  and  s-something  of  a  p-poet 
I've  been-  told.  I  m-must  be  a  b-bit  like  her,  for 
I've  always  d-dreamed  and  s-scribbled  down  my 
d-dreams.  They've  helped  me  many  and  many  a  time 
when  I  had  all  I  c-could  do  not  to  throw  myself  under 


212      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

a  t-train  or  drop  off  the  b-bridge.  Then  love  came," 
he  said,  simply,  "  and  I  had  that  to  1-live  for.  And 
now  you.  You've  been  wonderful,  Christine,  just 
wonderful." 

"  Seven  or  eight  tuts  this  time.  I  haven't  done  a 
thing  so  far,  but  I'd  like  to  see  you  get  even  with  that 
old  jelly-fish,  some  time."  She  spoke  impulsively,  the 
memory  of  that  painful  scene  in  the  garden  still  hot 
in  her  mind. 

"  You  can't  hurt  Uncle  Joshua.  There's  nothing  to 
hurt.  He  hasn't  a  heart.  Besides,  I'm  through  t-try- 
ing.  I  used  to  1-lie  awake  nights  when  I  was  a  little 
g-gaffer  trying  to  g-get  even,  but  I've  learned  that  hate 
is  a  d-destructive  force.  It's  only  love  that  makes  for 
g-growth  toward  perfection." 

"  It's  love  that  makes  for  growth  toward  perfection," 
softly  the  girl  repeated.  "  I'm  beginning  to  under- 
stand." 

"  Being  in  love's  great,  Christine.  It  teaches  you 
new  beauties  in  life  every  day.  But  listen  to  me.  Of 
course,  you  know." 

Douglas  did  not  see  the  new  light  that  was  born  in 
the  depths  of  the  gold-brown  eyes,  but  he  was  struck 
by  the  humility  of  her  reply,  "  No,  I  didn't  know  be- 
fore. I'm  just  beginning  to  learn." 

He  eyed  her  incredulously.  "  You're  joking. 
Cort— "' 

"  Cort  is  past  history  with  me,  Doug,"  she  put  in, 
with  a  certain  grave  simplicity.  "  Please,  please  don't 
let's  talk  about  me.  That's  all  there  is  to  my  story. 
You  haven't  finished  yours." 

A  curious  illumination  was  apparent  in  his  face  as 
he  leaned  toward  her  eagerly.  "  My  story  isn't  fin- 


DOUGLAS  TALKS  213 

ished,  thanks  to  you.  I'm  g-going  to  take  heart  now, 
and  c-carry  it  through,  even  though  Uncle  Joshua  — " 

He  was  silent  so  long  that  she  was  fired  with  impa- 
tience to  ask,  "  Were  you  arguing  the  question  po- 
litely with  Uncle  Joshua  this  afternoon  when  —  ?  " 

It  was  her  turn  to  break  off,  and  a  flush  scorched 
her  cheeks  at  her  own  tactlessness. 

"You  saw?"  He  hesitated,  and  for  a  moment 
seemed  to  sway  between  two  impulses,  then  braced 
himself  as  it  with  new  determination,  and  looked 
straight  at  her.  "  It  is  best  for  you  to  know.  There 
m-must  be  no  m-misunderstandings  between  us. 
Uncle  Joshua  was  merely  c-continuing  a  d-discussion 
or  rather  a  c-command  he  started  at  the  breakfast 
table.  He  told  me  to  choose  between  him  and  you." 

"Douglas!" 

He  raised  a  lock  of  hair.  In  the  moon-blanched 
night  a  black  mark  across  his  temple  was  clearly  dis- 
cernible. 

"  A  slight  t-token  of  his  p-pleasure  at  my  choice." 

"  Tell  me,"  her  eyes  were  dangerously  near  to  tears. 

"  There's  not  much  to  tell.  I  believe  I  was  whistling 
'  Oh,  that  we  two  were  Maying,'  when  I  came  in  to 
b-breakfast.  At  least,  so  Mark  told  me  when  I  asked 
him  the  r-reason  of  Uncle's  little  tantrum.  It's  not 
1-like  me  to  whistle.  Suddenly  Uncle  informed  me  in 
a  thundering  r-rage  I  was  to  c-cut  the  acquaintance  of 
the  Trevors  or  depart.  I  argued  the  matter  a  bit,  then 
m-managed  to  escape  with  my  head  whole  to  the  of- 
fice. He  started  in  again  on  the  1-lawn  this  afternoon. 
That's  all." 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  break  with  your  uncle  on  our 
account.  It  isn't  — " 


214      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

His  voice  was  tense  and  eager  as  he  interrupted, 
"  It's  b-bound  to  come  sooner  or  later,  so  why  not 
sooner?  I'm  sure  s-some  day  to  take  the  b-bit  in  my 
teeth  and  run." 

"  But  you  mustn't  let  us  be  the  cause.  I  can't  bear 
to  have  you — •" 

Again  he  broke  in,  "  I  shouldn't  have  t-told  you.  I'd 
made  up  my  mind  not  to,  but  if  I  do  b-break  and  run, 
it'll  be  b-because  it's  either  that  or  be  b-broken,  and  I 
tell  you,  I  won't  let  him  b-break  me  as  he  c-crushed 
father." 

One  glance  she  permitted  herself  at  his  face,  pale 
and. wrenched  with  pain.  Then  with  the  desire  strong 
within  her  to  turn  his  bitter  thoughts  into  happier  chan- 
nels, she  said,  with  apparent  irrelevance,  "  Life's  one 
grand  tangle,  isn't  it,  Doug?  I'm  wondering  if  it's 
because  you  and  I  are  hitching  our  wagons  to  a  star  ?  " 
Then,  after  a  moment  in  which  the  memory  of  the 
scene  at  Freddy's  tea-table  was  full  upon  her,  she 
added,  "  Freddy  Blue,  though,  seems  to  have  unwound 
the  snarl.  I  never  saw  any  one  so  really  happy." 

"  Freddy !  "  A  smile  broke  forth  irresistibly.  "  I 
haven't  s-seen  her  for  an  eternity." 

"  It  does  you  good  just  to  look  at  her.  She's  bright 
and  happy  as  the  —  the  sun.  But  it's  no  wonder." 

He  waited  for  her  to  explain,  and  after  a  moment 
she  said  with  unconscious  sadness,  "  She  has  her 
heart's  choice." 

He  faced  her  with  a  burning  question  in  his  eyes. 
His  lips  were  speechless.  She  was  lost  in  thought  a 
moment,  then  went  on  half  to  herself,  "  She  hasn't  told 
me  yet,  but  I  know  —  it's  —  it's  Dr.  Denton." 

A  minute  passed,  another,  then  he  laughed,  a  sudden, 


DOUGLAS  TALKS  215 

mirthless  laugh.  "  You're  j-jolly  well  right,  Chris- 
tine. Life  is  one  g-grajid  old  tangle." 

The  drive  home  was  swift,  silent,  but  as  he  handed 
her  out  of  the  roadster,  a  glint  of  humor  crossed  his 
face.  "  To-night  1-lies  between  me  and  the  g-great  old 
world.  Good  night,  dear  little  s-sister." 

The  next  morning  a  note  lay  beside  her  breakfast 
plate.  Mark  had  brought  it,  Amelia  said,  almost  be- 
fore she  was  downstairs. 

"  It's  the  world  for  me,  Christine  dear,"  she  read, 
"  and  long  hours  for  my  dreams  and  scribbling." 

Her  tears  blurred  the  simple  signature,  "  Doug." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

JENNIE    CHUBB    AGAIN 

That  week  slipped  by  for  Christine  like  a  dream. 
Outwardly  she  was  the  same,  merry  of  heart,  perform- 
ing her  small,  self-imposed  tasks  with  cheerfulness, 
and  now  and  then  even  lightening  the  burdens  of 
Amelia  and  Misery  with  a  thoughtfulness  that  was  a 
constant  surprise  and  joy  to  the  old  serving-woman,  at 
least. 

But  all  through  the  dancing  lessons  which  engaged 
her  morning  hours  ran  a  queer,  breathless,  high  ex- 
citement that  was  yet  a  strange  calm.  Her  heart's 
secret  thrilled  her  with  joy  and  at  the  same  time 
brought  her  in  a  breath  to  the  verge  of  tears.  "  You 
are  all  snow  and  fire,  Mees  Chreestine,"  the  old  pro- 
fessor said,  unconsciously  taking  on  an  attitude  of  pas- 
sionate admiration  at  the  end  of  a  brilliantly  impro- 
vised dance  which  yet  abounded  in  simplicity  and 
youthful  grace.  "  You  are,  as  you  say,  very  improv- 
ing, ma  cheric."  He  rubbed  his  hands  in  glee. 

And  in  the  late  afternoon  hours,  too,  which  she  spent 
with  the  young  Trevors,  the  joy  that  was  "  three- 
quarters  pain  "  overflowed  in  merry  quips,  happy  chat- 
ter, laughter  that  was  gay  as  the  song  of  a  bird.  Love 
consumed  her;  humility  filled  her. 

She  outdid  herself  in  the  stories  she  invented  for  the 
entertainment  and  instruction  of  the  twins.  And  at 

216 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AGAIN  217 

the  close  of  one  afternoon  when  Laurie  as  usual 
brought  out  his  violin  and  she  sang  to  the  little  group, 
the  boy  with  his  sensitiveness  of  perception  was  struck 
by  the  new  depth  of  her  voice.  She  sang  as  birds 
sing,  lightly,  sweetly,  but  now  there  was  a  quality  of 
emotion  exquisite  to  the  ear. 

Once  in  the  twilight  hour  the  boy's  eyes  followed  her 
with  a  wistful  look  when  she  slipped  into  a  stately, 
measured  dance  in  keeping  with  the  strains  he  was 
drawing  from  his  violin.  And  when  she  floated  into  a 
step,  light,  gay,  irresponsible  as  a  bit  of  thistle-down, 
his  gaze  was  still  upon  her. 

Again  the  violin  trembled  under  his  fingers,  vibrant 
and  penetrating,  and  in  the  swaying,  rhythmic  grace  of 
Christine's  movements,  he  suddenly  divined  that  a  mys- 
tery had  come  about  in  his  sister's  heart  like  the  open- 
ing of  a  bud  into  a  full-blown  flower. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  her,  hardly  above  his 
breath,  when  she  stood,  warmly  flushed,  her  eyes  il- 
lumined and  sweet. 

Her  gaze  never  swerved  from  the  loveliness  of  the 
garden,  from  the  roses  just  swelling  into  being,  the 
clustering  mignonette  and  the  brown  velvet  butterflies 
sailing  by.  "  It's  just  life  and  — "  She  stopped,  fall- 
ing into  dream. 

And  in  a  dream  she  fluttered  at  twilight  up  and  down 
the  garden  paths.  She  missed  Douglas.  For  a  while 
she  let  her  thoughts  wander  to  the  lonely  boy,  and  she 
wondered  where  his  first  adventure  into  the  great  world 
'had  carried  him. 

But  soon  her  mind  swung  back  again  to  herself  and 
that  miracle  of  miracles  which  love  will  ever  be.  And 
she  tasted  deep  of  love's  bliss  —  the  giving  of  one's 


218      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

heart  without  question,  without  fear.  But  she  tasted 
deep,  too,  of  love's  sorrow.  For  her  there  could  be  no 
return  of  love.  He  belonged  already  to  another. 

Suddenly  she  threw*  back  her  shoulders,  and  her 
head  was  high-poised.  "  I  know  now,"  she  said  half 
aloud.  "  Love  is  giving,  giving  your  very  best.  And 
oh,  it's  all  yours,  my  dear,  my  dear." 

Then,  after  a  moment,  in  which  her  whole  being  was 
lifted  to  the  solemnity  of  the  moment,  a  strange  radi- 
ance shone  in  her  eyes,  and  with  her  face  to  the  stars 
that  were  beginning  to  grow  silvery  in  the  night  sky, 
like  a  young  priestess  before  an  altar  she  spoke  as  if  to 
a  living  presence,  "  I'd  be  willing  to  die  for  you,  dear, 
if  that  would  help  you.  But  I'll  do  what's  ten  thou- 
sand times  harder.  I'll  live  for  you,  and  for  your 
happiness." 

A  step  behind  her  made  her  wheel  about.  Hot  color 
scorched  her  cheeks.  Could  Docky  — 

"  Amelia  told  me  I  should  find  you  here,"  Mr. 
Graves'  familiar  monotone  quieted  the  tumultuous 
beating  of  her  heart.  "  A  curious  thing  has  happened, 
more  curious,  I  should  say,"  he  went  on,  rubbing  his 
hands  together  with  that  odd  crackling  sound  which 
with  him  was  always  a  manifestation  of  excitement, 
"  than  the  mysterious  manner  in  which  that  missing 
paper  was  returned  to  me  last  Wednesday  through  the 
mails  —  you  have  not  forgotten  my  advising  you  of 
that  fact.  It's  almost  like  a  direct  answer  to  prayer, 
and  yet — •" 

He  paused  so  long  on  his  unfinished  sentence  that 
Christine  was  fired  with  impatience.  She  coughed 
three  times  without  the  desired  effect,  then, 

"  Ah,  yes,  Miss  Christine,  forgive  me.     I'm  grow- 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AGAIN  219 

.ing  more  absent-minded  every  day.  As  I  was  saying, 
I  was  visited  this  afternoon  by  a  gentleman  from 
Newton  —  that's  some  small  place  up  state,  I  believe 

—  and  upon  my  word,  he  wants  to  buy  this  place,  and 
at  a  figure  that's  not  half  bad." 

"  Buy  Rain-on-the-Roof."  A  strange  pain  gripped 
the  girl's  heart.  Her  eyes  moved  swiftly  from  the 
low,  rambling  structure  that  was  her  home,  with  its 
outlines  enchantingly  softened  and  blurred  in  the  early 
night-light,  to  the  old-fashioned  garden  and  the  elm- 
tree  under  which  she  practised  her  daily  dance  in  thrall 
to  Laurie's  music.  How  dear  it  all  was !  She  had 
not  realized  before  — 

The  slow  monotone  roused  her  from  her  absorp- 
tion. "  It's  a  difficult  thing  for  me  to  do,  Miss  Chris- 
tine, for  don't  I  know  better  than  any  man  alive  what 
this  place  meant  to  your  father?  He  never —  But 
this  is  no  time  for  retrospection  nor  regrets.  It's  a 
Godsend,  I  say,  a  Godsend,  and  we  must  act  quickly." 

As  always  in  her  moment  of  stress,  Christine's 
thoughts  moved  to  Dr.  Denton.  "  Will  he  —  Docky 

—  approve  ?  " 

"  There  won't  be  time  to  consult  him,  but  as  I  told 
you  at  our  last  interview,  he  always  gives  me  a  free 
hand  in  business  matters.  '  Use  your  own  judgment, 
Graves,'  is  what  he  says.  '  John  Trevor  had  full  con- 
fidence in  you  and  so  have  I.'  Besides,  you  see,  Miss 
Christine,  not  to  bore  you  with  business  details,  the 
whole  transaction  depends  upon  promptness.  Once 

let  the  real  estate  men  get  hold  of  this  Mr.  his 

name  appears  to  have  escaped  me  —  and  he  never 
would  consider  this  old  place  nor  this  locality.  It'll  be 
a  weight  off  my  mind  to  see  this  deal  through.  Of 


220      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

course,  there's  the  matter  of  settling  you  young  Tre- 
vors at  once  in  other  quarters,  and  — " 

"  At  once!  "  Christine  could  not  keep  the  note  of 
dismay  from  her  voice.  Another  uprooting.  Another 
upheaval  of  the  Trevor  hearth. 

"  That's  exactly  the  point,  Miss  Christine.  He  in- 
sists on  immediate  possession,  and  that's  why  he's  will- 
ing to  pay  the  price." 

When  Mr.  Graves  at  last  withdrew,  he  left  the  girl 
with  but  one  clear-cut  impression  —  the  Trevors  were 
without  a  home. 

The  specter  of  homelessness  haunted  her  in  troubled 
dreams  that  night.  Always  she  saw  herself  and  the 
children  standing  on  the  roadside,  their  household  pos- 
sessions cluttered  about  them,  hungry-eyed,  gaunt, 
beseeching  passers-by  for  shelter. 

The  specter  kept  close  beside  her  in  the  hour  of  her 
dancing  lesson,  and  weighted  her  feet  and  spirit. 

"  No,  no,  not  that  way,"  scolded  the  professor  for 
the  tenth  time.  "  That  is  worse  than  nothing.  You 
are  not,  as  you  say,  in  spirits.  I,  too,  am  not  in  spir- 
its. Hem,  it  is  household  troubles  that  lie  here."  His 
hands  went  to  his  heart.  "  You  do  not  know  of  some 
young  girl,  ma  cherie,  who  would  take  into  the  country 
a  very  ill  baby?  My  niece's  baby  —  she  herself  lies 
face  to  face  with  death.  No  ?  Eh,  bicn.  I  must  find 
some  one  at  once.  You  shall  dance  no  more  to-day." 
He  brought  his  hands  down  in  crashing  discord  on  the 
keys,  and  so  he  dismissed  her. 

For  a  time  she  wandered  disconsolately  about  the 
city  streets,  and  though  she  stood  before  a  shop  win- 
dow full  five  minutes  at  a  time,  she  could  not  after- 
wards recall  anything  that  window  contained. 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AGAIN  221 

Her  aimless  steps  brought  her  at  the  lunch  hour  to 
the  entrance  of  the  Emporium.  Suddenly  her  prom- 
ise to  Jennie  Chubb  glinted  through  her  memory. 

With  the  impulsiveness  that  was  so  strong  a  part 
of  her  temperament  she  plunged  down  the  steps  to  the 
electric-lighted,  evil-smelling  basement.  She  made  her 
way  as  rapidly  as  she,  could  through  the  crowds  jos- 
tling one  another  in  the  narrow  aisles  before  counters 
heaped  with  tawdry  ribbons,  high-scented  soaps, 
coarsely  made  but  fashionably  cut  shoes  and  slippers 
and  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  that  the  basement  de- 
partment stores  display  to  tempt  those  of  the  meager 
purse. 

At  the  counter  where  men's  hose  were  arranged  in 
colors  brighter  than  any  rainbow  human  eye  has  seen, 
she  looked  expectantly  for  Jennie  Chubb.  Perhaps 
she  had  already  gone  to  lunch. 

"  Jennie  Chubb  ?  She  got  canned  last  week.  No, 
we  ain't  none  of  us  seen  her  since." 

Outside  in  the  sunlight  Christine  stopped  to  fill  her 
lungs  with  fresh  air.  For  a  moment  she  hesitated,  her 
brows  twitching  into  a  frown.  She  was  tired,  dis- 
pirited, hungry.  She  would  go  home.  A  street  car 
bounding  over  the  rails  drew  her  attention.  Atwater 
Place.  Jennie  Chubb  lived  in  Atwater  Place.  She 
swung  herself  up  the  steps  of  the  car. 

Absent-mindedly  she  looked  out  at  the  dusty  streets 
blazing  in  the  noon-day  sun,  as  the  car  rattled  along. 
Her  thoughts  were  a  curious  jumble.  So  much  had 
happened  since  she  had  last  seen  Jennie  Chubb.  She 
had  given  up  Cort.  She  had  decided  that  dancing  was 
to  be  the  golden  ladder  by  which  she  would  climb  to 
fame  and  wealth.  She  had  learned  her  heart's  se- 


222      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

cret.  Douglas  Barton  had  made  his  choice,  and  the 
Trevors  would  soon  be  without  a  roof. 

She  descended  at  the  end  of  the  car-route,  and 
walked  rapidly,  with  the  freedom  and  suppleness  of 
early  youth,  through  two  dingy  squares  before  she 
arrived  at  the  shabby,  three-storied,  tipsily  slanting 
wooden  building  that  Jennie  Chubb  called  home.  Her 
repeated  ring  of  the  bell  brought  no  answer.  She  was 
already  half-way  down  the  rickety  steps  when  the  door 
was  pulled  violently  open  and  she  heard  her  name. 

"  I'm  here  alone  to-day,"  Jennie  Chubb  spoke  breath- 
lessly. One  hand  held  a  faded  kimono  together.  "  I 
—  I  was  in  bed  when  you  rang,  and  hurried  " —  she 
stopped  for  breath  — •"  as  fast  as  I  could." 

Several  times  in  her  ascent  of  the  long  dark  flights 
of  stairs  which  led  to  her  cell-like  room  on  the  top 
story,  she  had  to  stop  to  ease  her  labored  breathing. 

"  I'm  pretty  bad  to-day,"  she  said,  throwing  herself 
on  a  cot  by  the  one  window  the  room  boasted.  "  I  got 
more  cold  yesterday.  My  limousine  was  in  the  shop 
and  I  just  had  to  go  on  foot.  You  see,  my  diamond 
tiara  got  broke  at  the  ball  the  night  before,  and  my 
dressmakers  phoned  me  I  mustn't  miss  another  fittin'. 
So  what  could  I  do?"  Her  laugh  trailed  off  into  a 
hard,  racking  cough. 

Christine's  eyes  were  dark  with  pity. 

Almost  immediately  Jennie  rattled  on  again,  "  I've 
lost  my  job  again.  Got  canned  Saturday  night,  but 
one  thing  that  cheers  the  poor  workin'  girl,  she  spent 
her  last  cent  on  a  doctor  yesterday,  and  he  told  her 
she  hadn't  a  trace  of  the  con.  '  It's  a  bad  cold,'  he 
says,  '  which'll  land  you  into  pneumonia  if  you  don't 
look  out,  and  what  you  need  is  milk  and  plenty  of 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AGAIN  223 

fresh  eggs  and  rest  and  the  country.'  So  it's  the  coun- 
try for  me,  Miss  Trevor,"  she  said,  with  a  defiant  lift 
of  the  chin. 

Still  Christine  said  nothing.  Instinctively  she  knew 
Jennie's  nimble  tongue  would  run  on,  unaided. 

"  After  I  saw  you,  I  thought  hard  about  what  you 
said,  lame  dogs  and  all  that,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
I'd  go  straight,  and  I  wrote  him  that,  and  I  meant  it, 
and  then,  'cause  I  wouldn't  stand  no  freshness  from 
our  new  boss,  he  up  and  canned  me,  and  I've  tried,  hon- 
est I  have,  to  find  another  job,  but  it  just  seems  like 
there  ain't  no  job  for  Jennie  Chubb  in  this  great  little 
old  town.  And  then,  this  mornin'  when  it  looks  like 
I  was  down  and  out,  three  cents  to  my  name  and  three 
weeks'  rent  to  the  bad,  and  the  landlady  anxious-like, 
I  got  this."  She  fumbled  for  a  moment  under  her 
pillow,  then  drew  out  a  letter.  "  It's  from  him  —  he 
hadn't  got  my  other  yet,  and  to  cinch  me,  he  —  he  sent 
me  a  check.  It  looks  like  fate,  Miss  Trevor,  honest 
to  God  it  does."  She  moved  restlessly  on  her  cot. 
"  I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  worlds,  Miss  Trevor." 
Quick  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  won't  be  hurting  me,  Jennie.  It's  only  your- 
self you  have  to  think  about.  And  he's  less  than 
nothing  to  me  now." 

Jennie  stared  through  her  tears.  "  You  didn't 
throw  him  over?" 

Christine  nodded. 

"Well,  I  never!"  After  a  short  moment  of  si- 
lence, Jennie  said,  in  a  tone  curiously  blended  of  re- 
gret and  triumph,  "  So  I  did  get  even,  after  all." 

"  It  wasn't  getting  even.  It  was  doing  me  a  good 
turn." 


224      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  Huh !  You  wouldn't  have  him,  'cause  he  was 
after  the  likes  of  me,  I  suppose.  If  I'd  'a'  been  some 
dressed-up  doll  or  a  swell  chorus  girl,  you'd  'a'  for- 
given him  soon  enough."  Fire  snapped  in  the  blue 
eyes  which  seemed  preposterously  large  now  for  the 
emaciated  face. 

"  Jennie,  you  showed  me  he  didn't  have  my  heart." 

Christine's  candor  was  disarming.  The  thin  lips 
lost  their  angry  curve.  "  It'll  be  no  job  for  you  to 
pick  up  another  rich  guy,  you — "  She  stopped  on 
half  a  word,  and  with  frank  envy  absorbed  every  de- 
tail of  Christine's  appearance.  She  was  tailored  in 
white,  and  correct  from  her  white  pumps  to  her  wide 
white  hat.  Slowly  Jennie's  eyes  traveled  from  her 
visitor's  garb  to  her  face  with  its  exquisite  skin,  deli- 
cately molded  features,  eyes  of  brown  with  flashing 
lights  of  gold  and  the  tendrils  of  red-gold  hair  that 
curled  about  either  ear.  "  You  with  your  looks,"  she 
finished  sulkily. 

"  No  more  rich  guys  for  me,  Jennie,"  Christine's 
laugh  rang  out.  "  I'm  a  real  working-woman  now, 
and  am  going  to  earn  several  livings.  Don't  look  so  — 
unbelieving.  It's  the  truth.  But  I  didn't  come  here  to 
talk  about  myself.  It's  you  and  your  cold  I'm  inter- 
ested in,  and  — "  A  nearby  church-clock  drowned  out 
the  rest  of  her  words  with  its  resonant  peal. 

"  Two  o'clock !  Mercy  me,  Jennie,  I  haven't  kept 
you  from  your  lunch?" 

Jennie  laughed  a  short,  unmirthful  laugh.  "  I'm 
not  lunchin'  today.  I  dined  last  night  with  the  Van- 
derbilts,  you  know,  and  I've  a  delkate  digestion, 
and—" 

Something  compelling  in  Christine's  regard  brought 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AGAIN  225 

her  up  short,  and  tears  of  weakness  filled  her  eyes. 
"  All  I've  had  since  yesterday  noon's  a  glass  of  milk," 
she  half  sobbed. 

Christine  was  already  halfway  out  of  the  door  when 
she  turned  to  ask,  "  How  far  is  the  nearest  restau- 
rant?" 

"  There  ain't  no  fit  eatin'  joints  round  here,  but  on 
the  corner  of  Atwater  and  Bleeker,  there's  a  swell  little 
delicatessen.  Oh,  Miss  Trevor,  you're  a  brown-eyed 
angel!" 

The  brown-eyed  angel  did  some  rapid  thinking  while 
she  was  making  hurried  but  lavish  purchases,  and  by 
the  time  she  had  arranged  the  food  as  temptingly  as 
she  could  on  Jennie's  rickety  table,  her  plan  of  action 
was  definitely  mapped  out.  She  waited,  however,  un- 
til both  Jennie  and  she  had  taken  the  edge  off  their 
young  healthy  appetites  before  she  began.  Then  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way,  as  if  she  were  merely  reiterating 
an  opinion  expressed  but  a  moment  before,  she  re- 
marked, "  Yes,  the  country's  exactly  what  you  need. 
Plenty  of  fresh  air,  and  heaps  of  fresh  eggs  and  milk 
and  chicken." 

Jennie's  eyes  glistened,  and  unconsciously  her  lips 
parted  with  eagerness.  Then  the  light  died  out  of  her 
face.  "  You  ain't  advisin'  me  to  do  it,  are  you  ?  " 
she  cried,  in  passionate  disappointment.  Another  dis- 
illusion—  this  idol,  too,  had  clay-made  feet. 

"  I  most  certainly  am  advising  you  to  go  to  the  coun- 
try, and  — " 

Jennie  interrupted  rudely,  "  What's  your  game  ?  To 
get  even  with  him  ?  " 

Christine  apparently  did  not  hear  the  interruption. 
"  Are  you  fond  of  children,  Jennie?  " 


226      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"I'm  the. oldest  of  seven,  three  boys  and  four  girls 
in  our  family,"  she  said  slowly,  after  a  full  moment's 
pause,  "  and  I  miss  the  kiddies  so  that  sometimes  it 
seems  as  if  I'd  die  if  I  didn't  have  just  a  sight  of 
'em." 

"Why  don't  you  go  back  home?"  Christine  filled 
the  other's  glass  with  milk  for  the  third  time. 

"  Too  darn'  —  'shamed  and  proud,  I  s'pose.  I  ran 
away  from  home  when  I  was  seventeen  with  a  drum- 
mer. The  old  yarn,  you  know,  young  and  kind  of 
pretty  and  sick  and  tired  of  a  little  burg.  It  wasn't  my 
fault  I  didn't  go  wrong.  He  got  drunk  the  minute 
we  struck  the  city,  and  I  flew  the  coop."  Another 
long  silence,  in  which  Jennie's  eyes  were  at  the  bottom 
of  the  now  empty  milk-glass.  "  I  learned  my  lesson 
that  night.  I've  never  gone  wrong  yet,  but,"  she  said, 
with  a  bitter  sigh,  "  I'm  at  the  end  of  my  rope  now." 

Christine  was  quick  to  see  and  press  an  advantage. 
"  I  know  a  sick  kiddie  who  ought  to  go  to  the  country 
right  away,  but  his  mother's  too  ill  to  take  him,  and  to 
find  just  the  right  person — "  Artfully  she  paused; 
then  she  went  on,  "  I  suppose  that  wouldn't  appeal  to 
you." 

"  A  starvin'  dog  don't  throw  a  bone  away  'cause  it 
ain't  a  T  steakbone.  Tell  me  all  you  know  about  the 
sick  kid,  and  its  ma." 

Christine  told  all  she  knew.  At  the  end  of  a  half 
hour  she  was  leading  the  way  down  the  rickety  flight 
of  steps.  She  and  Jennie  Chubb  were  bound  for  the 
Professor's. 

"  Oh,  wait  a  sec',"  Jennie  cried,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
first  flight,  and  began  laboriously  to  ascend  again. 

It  seemed  to  Christine's  strained  nerves  all  of  an 


JENNIE  CHUBB  AGAIN  227 

hour  —  in  reality  it  was  no  more  than  ten  minutes  — 
before  Jennie  made  her  way  down  the  stairs  again. 
At  the  first  street  corner  she  stopped  and  posted  a 
letter. 

"  I  sent  back  that  check,"  she  said,  eyes  averted.  "  I 
told  him  I  was  leavin'  for  the  country,  and  I'm  goin' 
straight.  Here's  our  car." 


CHAPTER  XX 

CHRISTINE  DRIVES  DR.   DENTON'S   CAR 

A  letter  from  Cort  lay  on  her  dressing-table  when 
Christine  wearily  crept  into  her  room  late  that  after- 
noon. Without  an  instant's  hesitation  she  thrust  it 
unopened  into  her  desk-drawer  and  turned  the  key. 
That  chapter  in  her  life  was  closed,  she  told  herself 
grimly. 

But  her  thoughts  were  busy  with  that  closed  chapter 
of  her  life  and  the  events  of  the  afternoon  so  curiously 
interwoven  with  it,  when  she  wandered  into  the  garden 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  The  Professor  and  Jennie 
had  taken  to  each  other  at  first  sight.  Her  lips  curved 
into  a  tenderly  mirthful  smile  at  the  memory  of  the 
Professor's  exuberant  joy  over  the  quickly-made  ar- 
rangements, and  Jennie's  parting  words,  "  I'm  your 
slave  for  life,  you  brown-eyed  angel,"  kept  running 
through  her  head  like  the  refrain  of  a  song. 

The  night  was  vivid,  starry,  lit  by  a  moon  which 
was  riding  "  like  a  golden  galleon  in  a  heavy  sea,"  and 
the  air  was  still  as  a  held  breath.  She  was  suddenly 
swept  into  a  realization  of  the  ecstasy  and  beauty  of 
life  that  was  throbbing  all  about  her,  and  she  felt  as  if 
the  whole  world  were  moving  to  a  rhythm. 

And  because  it  was  a  night  for  romance,  she  fell 
a-dreaming,  and  her  dreams  held  her,  with  shining 
eyes,  and  caught  breath,  and  teeth  denting  her  lower 

228 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  229 

lip.  Then  in  imagination  she  grew  bolder.  Fancy 
created  the  loved  one's  form.  They  walked  close  to- 
gether in  the  garden  paths,  gazed  deep  in  each  other's 
eyes  and  held  sweet  converse. 

She  heard  footfalls,  and,  turning,  saw  Freddy  Blue 
coming  towards  her  over  the  moon-silvered  grass. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  coming?" 
Christine  reproached  her.  "  I'd  have  gone  halfway 
to  meet  you." 

"  I  decided  on  the  spur  of  the  moment."  There  was 
a  queer  tenseness  to  her  voice.  After  a  moment  of 
utter  quiet,  "  I  stopped  in  at  the  post-office  on  my  way 
to  the  drug-store  just  now."  Another  silence. 
"  There  was  a  note  from  Doug  —  I  didn't  know  —  I 
haven't  seen  him  for  a  week  —  for  some  time.  He 
said  you  knew." 

This  unexpected  show  of  feeling  so  rare  to  Freddy's 
serene  nature  threw  the  other  into  a  puzzled  surprise. 
It  was  all  of  a  minute  before  she  could  bring  herself  to 
say,  "  Why,  I  thought  you  knew." 

She  stole  a  look  at  her  over-tall  friend.  Freddy's 
mouth  was  set  and  her  eyes  were  frowning. 

"  Tell  me  —  everything."  Freddy  suddenly  caught 
her  breath  quiveringly  and  the  stern  look  melted  into 
pleading,  "  We've  been  life-long  friends,  you  know." 

"  Doug  said  you  had."  Then  with  characteristic 
vividness  Christine  described  the  ugly  scene  in  the 
Barton  garden,  of  which  she  had  been  an  inadvertent 
witness,  and  the  drive  along  the  river's  edge,  but  she 
withheld  any  reference  to  Douglas'  confession  of  love. 
That  was  too  intimate,  too  much  his  secret  for  her  to 
discuss  even  with  his  life-long  friend. 

For  a  time  Freddy  did  not  speak.     She  was  letting 


230      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

her  eyes  wander  over  her  companion  with  the  thought 
that  even  the  starlight  was  kind  to  her,  making  of  her 
hair  a  mist,  and  lending  a  nymph-like  whiteness  and 
beauty  to  her  slender  form. 

"  Everyone  loves  you,"  she  said  in  a  choked  voice. 
"I  don't  wonder,  you're  —  beautiful,"  she  added,  and 
sped  away. 

"  How  perfectly  peculiar !  "  Christine  stared  after 
the  hurrying  figure  in  genuine  puzzlement.  "  She 
can't  think  Doug's  in  love  with  me." 

A  thought  came  which  hurt  her  inconceivably. 
"  Besides,  what  possible  difference  can  it  make  to  her  ? 
She  has  Docky.  Well,  I'll  disabuse  her  mind  of  that 
crazy  notion  when  I  see  her  again." 

But  the  next  meeting  with  Freddy  did  not  occur 
until  other  matters  had  erased  the  memory  of  that 
conversation  in  the  moonlit  garden,  at  least,  from 
Christine's  mind. 

Afterwards,  in  recalling  the  events  of  the  next  day 
—  and  Christine  took  a  curious  pleasure  in  a  mental 
rehearsal  of  certain  occurrences  of  that  day  —  she  told 
herself  things  started  in  to  happen  right  away. 

From  the  breakfast-table  she  was  called  to  the  tele- 
phone. Mr.  Graves'  monotone  greeted  her.  How 
was  she  feeling  this  fine  summer  day?  And  were  the 
young  brother  and  the  twins  enjoying  the  best  of 
health?  Would  it  suit  her  pleasure  to  have  him  send 
his  car  for  her,  say  about  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon, to  look  over  a  couple  of  new  bungalows  at  the 
edge  of  town?  Yes,  the  sale  had  gone  through  with- 
out a  hitch,  as  Dr.  Denton  had  been  called  back  un- 
expectedly for  an  important  consultation  and  his  sig- 
nature had  been  secured  for  the  deed.  He,  Mr. 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  231 

Graves,  had  promised  the  newcomer  possession  within 
a  week's  time. 

•Christine's  ears  took  in  but  little  after  the  news  of 
Docky's  return.  For  a  breath  the  whole  world  rocked 
dizzily  and  even  when  it  steadied  itself  again,  the  blood 
was  still  racing  in  her  veins  and  her  heart  seemed  to 
be  beating  in  her  throat. 

"  At  three,  yes,"  she  heard  herself  say  in  an  unfa- 
miliar voice,  and  blindly  hooking  up  the  receiver,  threw 
herself  into  the  nearest  chair,  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands. 

So  it  happened  that  she  did  not  see  Laurie  quietly 
emerge  from  the  living-room  and  make  what  had  be- 
come for  him  a  daily  pilgrimage  to  the  letter-box  on 
the  corner.  The  grimly  set  lips,  the  cheeks  drained 
of  color  and  the  pain-darkened  eyes  would  have  told 
her  what  that  journey  cost. 

But  Christine  was  quick  to  see  his  unusual  pallor 
when  a  half -hour  later  she  joined  him  under  the  great 
elm  for  the  morning  history  lesson. 

"  Are  things  a  bit  off  to-day?  "  She  tried  to  make 
her  tone  unconcerned.  Laurie  hated  any  reference  to 
his  suffering  or  infirmity. 

He  fanned  himself  languidly  with  the  cover  of  his 
book.  "  It's  a  trifle  warmish,  isn't  it  ?  But  isn't  it 
jolly  here?  And  will  you  look  at  those  blue,  blue 
larkspurs  over  there?  It's  nice  to  be  out  here  among 
all  these  blossoming  things  and  the  butterflies  and 
birds." 

He  drew  a  deep  breath  of  content. 

"  I  wish  for  your  sake  we  could  stay,"  Christine 
said,  unintentionally  aloud.  How  she  should  break 
the  news  of  their  sudden  departure  from  this  quaint 


232      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

old  home  to  the  lame  boy  had  been  the  burden  of  her 
thoughts  since  Mr.  Graves  had  broached  the  subject 
in  the  garden  a  few  nights  before. 

In  countless  ways  she  had  come  to  realize  that 
Laurie  had  grown  passionately  fond  of  his  father's 
boyhood  home.  The  very  thought  of  the  sudden  up- 
rooting and  the  change  to  the  city's  heat  made  her 
heart  sink  with  foreboding.  Her  gaze  rested  search- 
ingly  upon  him,  and  she  was  filled  with  new  alarm 
at  the  strikingly  apparent  frail  hold  the  boy  had  on 
life. 

Laurie  laid  the  book  face  down  on  his  lap  and 
looked  out  through  the  trees  with  eyes  that  sought  the 
far-away  horizon  before  he  said  quietly,  "  Must  we 
give  this  up,  too?  " 

Christine  could  only  trust  herself  to  nod. 

"When?" 

How  she  admired  the  gallant  courage  of  his  smile! 

"  Soon.     In  a  week,  Mr.  Graves  said." 

He  caught  her  hand  suddenly.  His  thoughts  were 
never  for  himself.  "  That's  going  to  be  rough  on  you, 
Christie.  You're  so  busy  now  with  your  dancing. 
But  I'll  help  'Melia.  You'd  be  surprised  to  know  how 
many  things  she  found  for  me  to  do  when  we  tore  up 
before." 

He  meditated  a  moment,  while  she  tried  to  wink 
away  the  sudden  mist  that  blurred  her  sight  again. 

"  It's  been  nice  here."  He  stopped  to  listen  to  the 
scolding  of  a  bright-eyed  squirrel  which  perched  sau- 
cily on  a  branch  a  few  feet  above  the  boy's  head  to  pay 
his  usual  morning  visit,  then  he  went  on  in  a  dreamy 
undertone,  "  But  things  may  be  even  nicer  where  we're 
going.  Who  knows  ?  " 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  233 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  Christine  tried  for  a  gay  tone,  but 
she  failed  ignominiously. 

"  Anyhow,  it  doesn't  matter  where  we  are  or  where 
we  live.  Father's  always  with  us,  and  we  always  have 
that  wonderful  St.  Mark's  fund  to  think  about.  I'll 
never  forget  how  old  Graves  looked  when  I  told  him 
father  didn't  need  a  monument.  The  fund  was  his 
monument.  People  would  always  remember  him  by 
that." 

It  took  all  Christine's  courage  to  put  the  question, 
"  What  did  Mr.  Graves  say  to  that?  " 

"  Not  much.  He  just  wiped  and  wiped  and  wiped 
his  glasses.  I  thought  he'd  never  get  through,  and 
then  he  said,  *  Always  hold  fast  to  your  faith  in  your 
father,  boy,  no  matter  what  happens.'  As  if  I  had 
to  be  told  that ! "  Laurie  laughed  in  airiest  scorn. 
"  And  I'm  never  going  to  let  the  twins  forget  him 
either.  But  they're  so  young —  Oh,  you'll  be  late 
for  your  dancing  lesson,  Christie,"  he  exclaimed,  as  a 
neighboring  church-clock  pealed  the  hour  sonorously; 
"let's  up  and  at  it!" 

Christine  found  the  place  in  her  history  notes  and 
the  lesson  went  on  briskly,  though  now  and  then  her 
eyes  rested  dreamily  on  the  old-fashioned  garden,  with 
its  wealth  of  roses  and  lupines  and  heavy-headed  peo- 
nies and  bird  and  butterfly  life.  She  had  so  much  to 
think  about.  But  in  spite  of  the  sadness  that  lurked 
in  the  ever-present  thought  of  their  impending  depar- 
ture from  all  this  loveliness,  her  heart  sang.  Docky 
was  back. 

Then  a  thought  was  born  which  sent  a  flaming  color 
into  her  cheeks  and  made  her  heart  stumble  against  her 
breast.  Could  she  keep  her  secret  from  those  grave 


234      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

gray  eyes  which  always  seemed  to  plumb  the  depths  of 
her  soul?  She  must.  She  set  her  teeth  hard  against 
her  lower  lip.  To  betray  herself  even  by  a  word  or 
look  would  be  to  earn  her  undying  scorn  of  herself. 
The  well-poised  head  was  lifted  upright  with  deter- 
mination even  as  she  gently  corrected  Laurie  on  a  list 
of  causes  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses. 

"  I'm  a  dull  boy  to-day,"  he  said,  with  a  pretense  of 
lightness,  after  he  had  stumbled  through  the  next  out- 
line in  the  lesson,  "  but  my  thoughts  will  go  chasing  off 
like  those  butterflies,  and  my  ears  are  full  of  that  sweet 
chick-a-dee-dee-dee.  Oh,  but  wouldn't  it  be  great  to 
be  in  the  woods  to-day,"  he  said,  his  voice  vibrating 
with  sudden  longing,  "  and  find  the  thrush  that's  been 
singing,  singing,  and  chase  the  will-o'-the-wisp  till  you 
couldn't  chase  any  more,  and  follow  every  path  you 
liked?" 

"  Perhaps  I  can  get  back  early  enough  to  — " 

But  he  broke  in,  "  Don't  mind  me.  It's  just  this 
peach  of  a  day  that's  made  things  stir  around  inside  of 
me,  and  set  me  to  wishing.  Besides,  you  haven't  time. 
You'll  be  late  for  your  dancing-lesson,"  he  reminded 
her,  for  a  second  time. 

"  The  Professor'll  gobble  me  up,  bones,  feathers  and 
all  if  I  am."  She  had  already  started  on  a  run  to- 
ward the  house  when  a  sharp  exclamation  from  Laurie 
brought  her  instantly  to  his  side  again. 

"  Look,"  he  laughed,  in  sudden  amusement. 

She  looked.  The  twins  were  half  carrying,  half 
dragging  what  appeared  to  Christine's  mystified  gaze 
to  be  a  small  tin  bathtub. 

"  It's   a  mud-turtle  tub,"   Laurie   enlightened   her. 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  235 

"  Oh,  that  little  monkey  almost  took  a  header  into  the 
tub.  Dilly,"  he  raised  his  voice,  "have  a  care;  you're 
tipping  the  tub  on  your  side,  and  the  turtles'll  all  spill 
out." 

"  What'  11  those  imps  think  up  next?"  Christine 
groaned,  watching  the  twins  make  a  gallant,  if  pre- 
carious, advance. 

"  We  got  twenty  new  baby  turtles  'n'  lots  of  mamas 
'n'  papas  from  Billy  Gray  this  morning,"  shouted  Dilly, 
to  the  accompaniment  of  slopping  water,  "  'n'  we  only 
gave  him  our  ice  skates  'n'  our  sweaters  'n' — "  The 
rest  of  the  bargain  was  drowned  out  by  a  roar  from 
Daffy,  who  suddenly  sat  down  on  the  path,  panting 
and  exhausted  by  her  labors,  but  still  shrilly  protest- 
ing that  her  running-mate  was  not  equally  sharing 
the  burden. 

Cautiously  Christine  drew  nearer  the  watery  home 
of  the  mud-turtles.  Truth  to  tell,  she  had  no  fond- 
ness for  what  she  mentally  termed  slimy,  squirming, 
all-legs-and-tail-and-precious-little-head  creatures.  Ex- 
perience had  taught  her  that  the  twins  had  an  ever- 
ready  inventive  genius  for  original  games,  and  from 
experience,  too,  she  had  grown  used  to  the  fact  that 
they  would  go  to  any  lengths  to  make  the  game  a  good 
game. 

"  What  is  it  this  time  ?  "  Christine  stopped  at  a 
comparatively  safe  distance  and  craned  her  neck.  To 
her  excited  fancy  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  those 
slimy,  squirming,  all-legs-and-tail-and-precious-little- 
head  creatures  appeared  to  be  wriggling  on  top  of  one 
another  in  the  half-empty  tub.  Involuntarily  she 
wrinkled  her  nose  in  disgust. 


236      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Daffy  turned  up  to  her  eyes  blue  as  the  sky,  and  big 
with  reproachful  surprise.  "  Don't  you  like  'em,  poor 
itty-witty  sings?  " 

"  Um  —  I  can't  say  I'm  overcome  with  affection. 
But  whatever  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  collec- 
tion?" 

Excitement  brought  Daffy  to  her  feet.  She  faced 
her  sister  with  an  important  air.  "  Somebody's  got 
to  s'port  the  Trevor  family,  'n'  we're  going  to  do  it." 

Christine  groaned  inwardly.  She  recognized  the 
quotation.  The  twins  must  have  "  little-pitchered " 
when  she  was  defending  her  dancing  lessons  to  Amelia. 
"  What's  the  great  idea?  "  In  spite  of  herself  a  smile 
would  touch  her  lips. 

"  You  feed  'em  'n'  feed  'em  till  they're  big  'n'  fat" 
Daffy  moved  close  to  her  sister,  and  half  whispered  the 
rest  of  the  recipe  for  growing  rich  quick,  "  'N'  then 
you  sell  'em  for  soup." 

Dilly  came  promptly  to  his  sister's  support  with, 
"  'N'  turtle  soup's  a  awful  delickacksy —  Billy  Gray 
says  so." 

Christine  stared  in  amazement;  then  her  glad,  free 
laugh  rang  out.  "  Well,  as  long  as  you  don't  intend  to 
make  that  soup  delicacy  yourselves,  I  suppose  you 
can't  get  into  any  real  mischief."  A  sudden  thought 
made  her  swing  about  when  she  had  already  gone  a 
dozen  paces  across  the  lawn.  "  But  for  the  love  of 
Betsy,  keep  a  ball  and  chain  on  every  turtle's  foot,  so 
he  doesn't  escape.  I  wouldn't  fancy  meeting  one  of 
them  in  the  dead  o'  night." 

Afterwards  the  roguish  gleam  that  sparkled  in 
Daffy's  wide-eyed  innocent  stare  flitted  back  into 
Christine's  memory,  and  she  wondered  that  she  had 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  237 

not  paused  for  a  word  of  inquiry  or  warning.  But  at 
this  precise  moment  her  head  was  full  of  nothing  but 
the  hailstorm  of  reproachful  words  that  would  rattle 
about  her  ears  when  she  presented  herself  before  the 
Professor  half  an  hour  or  more  after  her  appointed 
time.  The  Professor  did  not  disappoint  her.  He 
greeted  her  with  a  scolding  that  did  not  abate  for  full 
ten  minutes,  then  because  he  was  in  an  unusually  ex- 
acting mood  that  morning,  kept  her  to  her  task  until 
an  hour  after  lunch-time. 

Consequently  she  was  late,  too,  when  she  slipped  into 
Mr.  Graves'  cab  that  afternoon. 

"  I'm  to  drive  you  to  Isabelle  Avenue,"  the  chauf- 
feur told  her.  "  Mr.  Graves  said  he'd  be  there  three 
sharp,  and  believe  me,  it'll  be  three  sharp,"  he  added, 
more  to  himself  than  her. 

"  A  waste  of  a  good  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  Miss 
Christine,"  was  Mr.  Graves'  greeting  as,  watch  in  hand, 
he  assisted  her  from  the  cab.  "  And  this  is  a  very 
busy  day  for  me,  but  there,  there,  my  dear  " — his  testi- 
ness  melting  surprisingly  under  the  warmth  of  her 
smile  — "  one  must  make  allowances,  I  suppose,  for  a 
popular  young  lady  with  a  thousand  demands  on  her 
time.  This  is  the  living-room."  He  led  the  way  into 
a  tiny  box  of  a  room.  "  Not  large,  but  — " 

A  feeling  of  dismay  swept  over  Christine  as  she 
followed  her  guide  from  one  small  room  into  another. 
"  We'd  be  cooped  up  here  like  chickens,"  she  began, 
but  he  interrupted  with  a  snappiness  quite  foreign  to 
his  usual  paternal  tone,  "  I've  run  my  legs  off  to  find 
something  suitable,  and  it's  not  to  be  had.  That  other 
bungalow  directly  opposite,"  they  were  standing  now 
on  the  diminutive  porch,  "  was  rented  halt  an  hour 


238      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

ago,  the  agent  told  me,  while  I  was  —  er  —  waiting 
for  you.  This  is  the  only  house  anywhere  about  that's 
fit  to  live  in." 

"  It's  just  about  the  size  of  a  doll-house  father  had 
made  for  me  when  I  was  a  small  tad,  but  it'll  have  to 
do,  I  suppose." 

"  We're  in  luck  to  get  this.  There's  a  pair  of  lovers 
that  have  been  haunting  the  place  for  weeks  —  I  know, 
for  he's  a  stenographer  in  our  office  —  but  the  rent's 
been  a  trifle  high." 

Christine  had  already  settled  herself  in  the  cab,  the 
key  to  the  new  Trevor  home  stowed  safely  away  in  her 
hand-bag,  when  Mr.  Graves  poked  his  head  in  the  win- 
dow, and  innocently  loosed  a  thunderbolt.  "  By  the 
way,  it  came  to  my  knowledge  this  morning  that  it's 
that  queer  old  curmudgeon  who  lives  next  door  that's 
bought  your  house,  and — " 

"  Joshua  Barton,"  Christine  broke  in  excitedly. 
"  There  must  be  some  mistake." 

Mr.  Graves  shook  his  head.  "  It  leaked  out  most 
unexpectedly.  I  myself  don't  understand,  but  old 
Barton  doubtless  does.  Perhaps  he's  afraid  some  real 
estate  concern'll  swoop  down  on  this  peaceful  back- 
water, and  subdivide  into  twenty-foot  lots  and  bring 
out  the  working-class.  Joshua's  an  exclusive  old  boy, 
I'm  told,"  he  added,  with  rare  levity,  "  but  his  money's 
as  good  as  another's  and  he  paid  a  good  price." 

"  It  can't  make  any  possible  difference,"  Christine 
assured  herself  when  alone,  and  she  tried  to  plunge 
mentally  into  the  thousand-and-one  details  that  moving 
always  necessitates. 

But  her  thoughts  reverted  again  and  again  to  the 
subject,  and  the  new  owner  of  "  Rain-on-the-Roof  " 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  239 

was  uppermost  in  her  mind  when  she  sped  up  the  front 
steps  of  her  home,  and  almost  into  Amelia's  arms. 

"  It's  you,"  gasped  the  old  woman  and  fell  back 
against  the  wall,  trembling  so  that  she  could  barely 
stand. 

"What  is  it?  What's  happened?  The  twins? 
Not  Laurie !  "  The  cry  was  wrenched  from  Chris- 
tine's heart. 

Amelia  tried  to  control  her  quivering  lips,  but  she 
opened  her  mouth  once  or  twice  before  the  words 
would  come,  "  He  ain't  dead.  Not  that,  but  oh,  my 
God,  my  God!  I  thought  he  was  when  they  brought 
him  in."  In  spite  of  her  determined  efforts,  great  hard 
sobs  racked  her.  "  I've  sent  for  our  doctor.  I 
thought  you  was  him.  No  bones  broke,  praise  be, 
and  he's  sleepin'  now  like  a  babe,"  she  went  on,  her 
words  rushing  forth  now  pell-mell,  "  and  he  knew  me 
from  the  start,  his  poor  old  'Melia  who'd  be  glad  to 
die  for  him.  I  must  get  back  to  him.  No,  no,  me 
first." 

But  Christine  had  already  leaped  up  the  steps,  and 
was  kneeling  by  her  brother's  side  when  Amelia  tot- 
tered in.  Misery  was  seated  at  the  bedside,  alert  for 
an  opportunity  to  serve  the  boy. 

"  He  ain't  moved  or  stirred  for  the  last  half  hour. 
He's  sleepin'  like  he  was  dead  tired,"  she  whispered,  in 
answer  to  Christine's  low-voiced  inquiry,  "  except  once 
he  opened  his  eyes  and  called  you.  Then  'Melia  came 
and  he  smiled  and  was  off  again  like  he  is  now." 

"  Laurie,  Laurie."  Christine  pressed  her  lips  to  the 
hand  which  lay,  fine  and  exquisite  as  a  hand  modelled 
in  marble,  on  the  coverlet. 

The  dark  eyes  fluttered,  opened,  smiled.     "  Christie, 


240      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

I'm  glad  I  haven't  lost  you,  too."  She  had  to  put  her 
ear  close  to  his  lips  to  catch  the  words;  then  as  if  a 
weight  lay  on  his  eyelids  he  closed  them  and  slept 
again. 

"  How  soon  is  Docky  coming  ?  Did  his  office-girl 
know?"  Christine  inquired  of  Amelia  in  an  unsteady 
voice. 

"  He  wasn't  in.  She  thought  he'd  come  soon,  but  I 
couldn't  make  her  understand  real  clear-like  what  the 
trouble  was,  there  was  such  a  buzzin'  in  the  phone,  and 
I  tried  and  tried,  but  she  didn't  seem  to  make  out,  so  I 
told  her  to  say  he  should  come  here  right  away." 

"  I'll  try."  Christine  found  relief  in  action,  but  to 
her  dismay  learned  that  the  doctor's  line  was  out  of 
order.  Workmen  were  busy,  however,  with  its  re- 
pair. She  should  make  the  call  again  within  a  half 
hour. 

She  was  moving  restlessly  about  her  bedroom,  stop- 
ping now  and  then  to  pick  up  a  small  object  and  set 
it  down  unseeingly  when  Amelia  knocked  at  her  door 
and  entered  simultaneously.  She  was  carrying  a  small 
tray  with  a  service  of  tea. 

"  Sit  down  here,  'Melia."  Touched  to  the  quick  by 
the  old  woman's  devotion,  Christine  drew  forward  an 
easy-chair.  "  It'd  choke  me.  You  need  it  more  than 
I.  Let  me  serve  you." 

"  Misery's  with  him.  I  was  goin'  to  serve  you,  and 
then  drink  myself.  We  need  to  keep  our  strength  for 
what's  comin'.  If  only  our  doctor'd  hurry."  She 
made  a  movement  toward  the  window,  but  Christine 
pressed  her  back  in  her  chair. 

"  I'll  phone  again  in  fifteen  minutes,"  she  glanced  at 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  241 

her  wrist-watch,  "  and  then,  if  he's  not  in,  it'll  have 
to  be  some  other  doctor." 

The  old  woman's  hands  trembled  so  violently  that 
Christine  had  to  rescue  her  cup  of  tea.  "  Another  doc- 
tor'd  kill  him  sure.  No  other  doctor'd  understand. 
It's  got  to  be  our  doctor  who  knows  — "  She  broke 
off  with  a  significant  little  lift  of  her  eyes. 

"Knows  what,  'Melia?" 

"  'Tain't  the  boy's  body  this  time.  It's  his  heart," 
she  answered  irrelevantly  between  gulps  of  tea. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  mean."  There  was  a  note  of 
the  old  imperiousness  in  the  girl's  manner,  as  she  fixed 
the  tear-stained  eyes  with  her  unwavering  glance. 

"  Not  now.     I  must  get  back  to  my  boy !  " 

Christine  was  not  to  be  denied,  though  she  had  to 
effect  a  compromise.  She  set  a  chair  for  Amelia  out- 
side Laurie's  room  where  her  whispers  would  not  dis- 
turb him,  and  where  through  the  partly  opened  door 
she  could  watch  his  every  movement. 

"  I  was  finishin'  up  my  darnin'  in  the  back  yard," 
Amelia  began  tremulously,  "  and  Laurie  was  fiddlin' 
away  under  the  big  tree,  and  the  twins  were  laughin' 
their  heads  off  over  some  prank  or  other  with  their 
mud-turtles,  and  I  must  have  dozed  a  minute.  It  was 
warm,  and  my  rheumatiz  kept  me  awake  considerable 
last  night."  Her  tone  was  apologetic.  "  Anyhow, 
first  thing  I  know  I  heard  Laurie's  voice  excited-like 
and  half-cryin',  and  there  he  was,  talkin'  away  for  dear 
life  to  another  cripple-boy  'bout  his  own  age.  I  got 
up  to  see  what  the  matter  was,  and  I  heard  him  say, 
4  'Tain't  true,  Joe.  There's  a  mistake  somehow.  My 
father  gave  his  last  cent  for  that  fund.  You  couldn't 


242      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

've  lost  your  money,'  and  then  that  boy  laughed  kind  of 
scornful-like,  '  Huh,  all  you  know.  We  did  lose  our 
money  and  your  father  was  nothin'  but  a  darned  old 
thief.' ' 

There  was  a  catch  in  Christine's  voice  which  was 
husky  and  toneless.  "  I  always  hoped  he'd  never 
know." 

"  And  then  my  blessed  boy  went,  with  that  —  that 
Joe  boy  to  the  car,  and  he  was  helpin'  him  up  the  steps 
when  somehow  my  blessed  lamb  slipped  and  fell,  I 
thought  clean  under  the  wheels.  I  screamed  and  ran 
and  screamed  and  ran  but  that  man-servant  next  door 
got  to  him  first,  and  carried  him  in,  and  helped  me  put 
him  to  bed.  My  hands  shook  so.  It  was  that  man 
Mark  that  said  he'd  not  broken  a  bone,  but  just  got  a 
bit  of  a  shakin'  and  — " 

"  Time's  up.  I'm  going  to  phone,  but  remember, 
'Melia,  if  Docky's  not  in,  it  must  be  some  other.  We 
daren't  wait  any  longer." 

"  Please,  please,  Dr.  Denton,  not  any  other  doctor," 
came  faintly  in  Laurie's  voice  from  the  darkened  room. 

"  I  didn't  realize  I  was  speaking  so  loud."  Chris- 
tine crept  in  contritely  to  the  bedside,  and  dropped  to 
her  knees.  "  It'll  be  Dr.  Denton  if  I  have  to  bring  him 
myself." 

Christine  kept  her  word.  She  brought  him  herself, 
though  it  was  not  until  many  hours  later.  The  tele- 
phone was  still  out  of  repair,  and  she  found  the  office 
closed  when  she  finally  gained  his  office-building  after 
what  seemed  to  her  an  interminable  trolley  ride. 

It  was  growing  dark,  and  a  fine  mist-like  rain  had 
begun  to  fall  when  she  entered  a  car  bound  for  his 
home. 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  243 

Dr.  Denton  had  gone  out  of  town  to  operate  late  in 
the  afternoon  and  would  not  be  back  until  the  next 
morning,  Mrs.  Anderson,  the  doctor's  housekeeper, 
volubly  informed  her.  He  had  phoned  her  not  to  pre- 
pare dinner  or  breakfast,  but  wouldn't  Miss  Christine 
stop  on  for  a  bite? 

Miss  Christine  wouldn't.  Did  Mrs.  Anderson  know 
where  the  doctor  had  gone? 

He  had  taken  the  mid-afternoon  train  for  Chester 
and  had  promised  Mrs.  Anderson  to  deliver  a  parcel  to 
her  daughter-in-law.  No,  there  was  no  other  train 
for  Chester  until  one-something  in  the  morning.  Yes, 
Chester  was  that  little  mill-town  some  fifty  miles  up- 
state on  the  Dunbar  River. 

A  sudden  determination  pulsed  in  Christine.  With 
the  fewest  words  possible  she  explained  the  urgency 
of  her  need  for  Doctor  Denton's  services.  Then  she 
said  resolutely,  bracing  her  shoulders  with  the  air  of 
one  refusing  discussion,  "  I'm  going  to  take  Docky's 
car  and  bring  him  back." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Anderson  began,  in  bewil- 
dered protest,  "you  —  a  young  girl  —  at  this  hour  of 
the  night  and  in  such  weather — " 

The  ring  of  Christine's  voice  was  unmistakable. 
"  Give  me  the  key  to  the  garage  —  please." 

Mrs.  Anderson  meekly  surrendered  the  key. 

It  was  not  until  Christine  had  plunged  northward, 
and  the  lights  strung  along  the  river  were  speeding  past 
the  rain-fretted  wind-shield  like  pale  bubbles,  that  any 
doubt  assailed  her.  Suppose  she  failed  to  find  Docky. 
Mrs.  Anderson  had  spoken  vaguely  of  a  hotel  but  had 
fancied  that  the  doctor  would  put  up  for  the  night  at 
the  home  of  one  of  his  confreres.  Suppose  he  had 


244      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

gone  to  Chester  for  a  series  of  operations,  as  she  knew 
was  frequently  the  case,  and  wouldn't  be  able  to  re- 
turn with  her. 

Her  young  body  grew  taut.  She  had  promised 
Laurie,  and  she'd  die  before  she'd  break  her  word. 
Laurie's  life  was  at  stake  and  only  Dr.  Denton  could 
save  it.  Docky  should  return  with  her.  She'd  make 
him  —  how,  she  didn't  know. 

The  purr  of  the  motor  deepened;  the  river  sped  by 
like  a  dark  ribbon.  Each  moment  the  downpour 
seemed  thicker,  quicker.  A  wind,  too,  had  risen, 
which  began  to  tear  impishly  through  the  open  win- 
dows at  her  hat.  She  unpinned  her  hat  and  tucked  it 
under  her  feet,  as  she  drove  the  car  forward  at  high 
speed. 

She  knew  by  heart  every  bend  and  turn  in  the  road 
until  it  deflected  from  the  river.  A  sudden  panic  over- 
whelmed her  when  she  swung  into  a  patch  of  woods 
black  as  the  night.  Horrid  stories  of  robbers  utiliz- 
ing this  strip  of  woods  as  a  rendezvous  flashed  into 
her  overstimulated  mind  and  every  minute  she  ex- 
pected to  see  masked  figures  dart  out  at  her  from  be- 
hind dripping  trees.  But  she  saw  only  the  wavering 
illumination  of  her  own  headlight,  and  when  once  she 
had  to  bring  the  car  to  a  full  stop  to  make  sure  of  a 
sharp  turn  in  the  path,  she  heard  nothing  but  the  hoot 
of  an  owl  and  the  shrieking  of  the  wind-tossed  boughs 
high  above  her  head. 

Out  into  the  open  road  again.  The  rain  was  com- 
ing in  torrents  now  and  the  wind  had  whipped  itself 
into  a  gale.  Her  eyes  were  growing  weary  from  the 
strain  of  peering  through  the  curtain  of  rain.  Her 
hand  and  arm  were  beginning  to  feel  numb.  It  was  no 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  245 

easy  task  now  to  keep  the  wheels  in  the  heavy,  slippery 
ruts.  Once  or  twice,  on  the  river  road,  she  had  had 
to  turn  out  for  another  automobile,  but  for  the  most 
part  she  had  undisputed  possession  of  the  road,  and 
for  that  she  was  thankful,  for  now  the  way  had  nar- 
rowed, with  sharp  declivities  on  either  side. 

Her  eyes  had  closed  several  times  in  spite  of  her- 
self and  her  thoughts  were  becoming  a  curious  jum- 
ble, when  a  loud  honking  and  the  glare  of  headlights 
that  seemed  close  upon  her  brought  her  up  sharply. 
Hurriedly  she  glanced  on  either  side.  Was  she  a 
skilful  enough  driver  to  turn  out  in  safety?  She 
would  have  to  —  there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  Per- 
haps she  could  back  her  car  — 

She  had  already  thrown  the  engine  into  reverse  when 
she  was  startled  by  a  second  blast  of  the  automobile 
horn,  air-ripping  and  prolonged.  Again  it  came.  She 
shut  down  her  engine. 

"  You  can't  back  up,"  a  voice  shouted  out  of  the 
darkness.  "  There's  a  fierce  gully  on  either  side." 

"  What  shall  I  do?  "  called  Christine,  in  a  voice  that 
shook  with  fright. 

"  A  woman,  by  all  that's  true."  Her  ears,  pricked 
for  every  sound,  caught  the  words,  though  spoken  in 
a  lower  tone.  Again  a  shout,  this  time  a  command. 
"  Wait,  we'll  help  you  turn." 

"If  you'll  run  your  car  ahead  about  fifteen  paces, 
madam,"  came  from  a  dripping  figure  in  motor  coat 
and  cap  standing  beside  her  car,  "  you  can — " 

"  Docky !  "  the  girl  at  the  wheel  broke  in  with  a 
sob.  "  It's  you,  really  you !  I  found  you,  after  all !  " 

Questions  and  answers  were  exchanged  as  rapidly 
as  human  tongue  could  form  words. 


246 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  with  Dr.  Denton  at  the 
wheel,  Christine  was  being  whirled  homewards. 

"  I'll  never  cease  to  be  thankful  we  stopped  you 
when  we  did,"  he  broke  the  first  little  silence  that  had 
fallen.  "  A  few  feet  more  and  — "  An  irrepressible 
shudder  ran  through  him. 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  saucy  little  tilt  of  the 
chin.  "  You'd  have  been  rid  of  a  bothersome  ward 
forever."  Her  laugh  held  a  glad  thrill.  "  Well,  I'll 
never  cease  to  be  thankful  I  met  you  when  I  did,  for 
you'd  have  been  safely  tucked  away  in  bed  at  Dr. 
Crampton's  by  the  time  I  reached  Chester  and  I'd 
never,  never  have  found  you.  Poor  man,  he  looked  as 
though  he  wanted  to  eat  me  up  for  carrying  you  off 
like  this." 

"  He  was  counting  on  a  good  smoke  and  a  jolly  old 
before-bed  chat.  I'd  promised  to  talk  over  with  him 
some  of  the  experiences  of  my  New  York  visit." 

The  brown  eyes  flashed  up  to  his.  "  I'm  sorry, 
Docky,  but  Laurie  — " 

"  Sorry,  child ;  there's  nothing  for  you  to  be  sorry 
for.  I'm  sorry  you  tired  yourself  out  in  that  wild 
drive.  You  certainly  are  a  plucky  girl,  Goldilocks." 

"  Plucky,  pouf !  Not  a  bit  of  it !  This  drive's  been 
the  worst  nightmare  of  my  whole  life."  But  in  the 
darkness  of  the  cab  she  smiled  happily  to  herself. 

A  weight  was  beginning  to  oppress  her  eyelids,  and 
she  was  finding  it  increasingly  difficult  to  hold  her  head 
erect.  There  was  something  infinitely  soothing  in  the 
steady  motion  of  the  car  under  the  doctor's  guidance 
and  the  beat  of  the  rain  against  the  wind-shield.  Once, 
when  he  stopped  the  car  to  slip  out  and  test  a  rear  tire, 
the  lashing  of  the  wind-racked  branches  in  the  depths 


CHRISTINE  DRIVES  247 

of  the  woods  which  before  had  stirred  her  to  fear  now 
soothed  her  as  a  lullaby. 

"  Very  tired,  little  one?  "  Dr.  Denton  inquired,  after 
a  prolonged  silence. 

"  No-o-o,"  she  murmured  sleepily,  "  only  wonder- 
ing and  hoping  and  praying  that  Laurie's  — "  she  broke 
off  with  a  half-sob. 

"  From  what  you've  told  me,  Laurie's  suffering  from 
a  severe  mental  shock.  We're  going  to  pull  him 
through,  never  fear."  Dr.  Denton  moved  closer,  and 
inserted  his  arm  under  her  drowsy  head.  "  That's  bet- 
ter, Goldilocks,"  he  said,  very  quietly.  "  You  can 
rest  more  comfortably  so.  I'll  wake  you  in  good 
time." 

So  with  her  head  pillowed  on  his  shoulder,  Christine 
slept  like  a  tired  child.  Once  or  twice  she  shifted  her 
head  or  stirred  a  bit  uneasily,  but  the  rocking  motion 
of  the  car  and  the  reassuring  support  of  the  arm  that 
encircled  her  lulled  her  into  sleep  again.  And  the 
rosy  dreams  of  first  love  came  to  her,  and  thrilled  her 
to  ecstasy.  Once  she  opened  her  eyes,  still  heavy  with 
slumber.  She  thought  lips  had  touched  hers  light  as 
a  breath  with  a  whispered,  "  My  little  love-girl,"  and 
her  heart  beat  stormily. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  she  murmured  dreamily,  and  for 
answer  Dr.  Denton  drew  her  head  closer  against  him 
in  the  darkness  of  the  car  that  was  flying  forward  at 
unabated  speed.  "  With  me,  Goldilocks,"  he  said,  in 
his  quiet  voice,  and  she  was  fast  asleep  again. 

Through  the  thrall  of  a  dream  vibrated  a  strain  of 
purest  music,  "  I  love  you,  Christine,"  and  with  the 
mist  of  the  dream  still  in  her  eyes  and  the  melody  of 
that  voice  still  in  her  ears,  she  awoke  to  the  sound  of 


248      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

her  name,  "  Christine,  Christine.  Here  we  are.  Goldi- 
locks, safe  at  home."  The  next  instant  she  felt  her- 
self lifted  out  of  the  car  in  strong  arms  and  carried  up 
the  steps. 

The  rain  had  ceased,  but  the  wind  still  beat  high. 
Suddenly  from  behind  the  shifting  cloud-wrack  the 
moon  magically  appeared,  and  sent  a  flood  of  radiance 
over  the  quiet  night-world. 

"  How  beautiful!  "  breathed  Christine,  her  face  up- 
turned to  the  great  silver  plaque,  as  the  doctor  set  her 
on  her  feet  on  the  veranda. 

"How  beautiful!"  Dr.  Denton  repeated,  but  his 
eyes  were  not  on  the  face  of  the  moon. 

It  was  all  of  a  half-hour  before  he  came  to  her.  She 
was  lying  on  the  living-room  davenport  where  he  had 
insisted  on  establishing  her  while  she  waited  for  him 
to  make  an  examination  of  Laurie's  injuries. 

"  It's  as  I  thought.  He's  had  a  tremendous  nervous 
shock,  but  we're  going  to  keep  him.  It'll  be  all  of  a 
month,  though,  before  he'll  be  up  and  around  again." 

Tears  streamed  unheeded  down  her  cheeks. 

"  We're  going  to  keep  him.     I  was  so  afraid  — " 

Her  cheek  against  the  pillow  and  her  long  yellow 
braids  tossed  back  of  her  head,  she  was  drifting  off  to 
sleep,  when  a  sudden  thought  brought  her  bolt  up- 
right. "  Docky  said  Laurie  won't  be  up  for  a  month, 
and  we've  got  to  give  up  this  house  to  that  old  Barton 
monster  within  a  week." 


CHAPTER  XXI 
CHRISTINE'S  SURPRISE  BASKET 

The  next  morning  developed  a  mystery  that  Chris- 
tine was  long  in  puzzling  out.  She  was  making  a 
descent  of  the  stairs,  her  feet  hardly  touching  the  steps, 
and  a  song  on  her  lips,  for  Laurie  had  passed  a  quiet 
night,  when  there  was  a  peremptory  ring  of  the  bell. 
A  diminutive  messenger-boy  with  a  huge  box  was  fidg- 
eting before  the  door. 

"  Master  Laurie  Trevor,"  he  sang  out  shrilly,  and 
thrusting  the  package  into  her  hands,  ran  down  the 
steps,  whistling  loudly  after  the  fashion  of  his  kind. 

Quickly  she  threw  off  the  brown  paper  wrappings. 
A  sheaf  of  tea  roses  artistically  combined  with  forget- 
me-nots  shed  a  fragrance  into  the  room. 

A  faint  color  crept  into  Laurie's  white  cheeks  as  she 
laid  the  dewy  beauties  against  his  face. 

"Who  sent  them?" 

The  feebleness  of  his  voice  cut  her  with  a  bitter 
sharpness,  but  she  answered  gaily,  "  I've  hunted  and 
hunted,  but  there's  no  sign  of  a  card  and  no  hint,  either, 
of  any  florist.  You  sly  little  mite,  'fess  up,  who's  the 
fair  lady?" 

But  Laurie  only  shook  his  head  with  a  wan  smile, 
and  wondered  who  the  giver  could  be.  He  was  as 
genuinely  mystified  as  she. 

The  mystery  deepened  the  following  day.  The  self- 
249 


250      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

same  scene  before  the  front  door  reenacted  itself. 
This  time  the  offering  was  a  basket  of  luscious  fruit. 
And  so  anonymous  gifts  of  fruit  or  flowers  reached 
Laurie  day  by  day,  and  though  once  Christine  suc- 
ceeded in  detaining  the  elusive  messenger-boy,  she*  was 
not  equally  successful  in  eliciting  any  information  that 
satisfied.  Apparently,  all  he  knew  was  that  a  man 
presented  himself  in  the  office  early  each  morning  with 
a  package  to  be  delivered  to  Master  Laurie  Trevor. 
No,  he  didn't  know  what  the  man  looked  like.  He 
hadn't  noticed.  Yes,  he  supposed  he  could  notice,  but 
that  wasn't  what  he  was  hired  for.  His  business  was 
to  deliver  the  goods.  And  no  tips  or  bribes  could 
tempt  that  messenger  boy  of  the  snub-nose  and  freckled 
face. 

So  though  the  unfailing  daily  arrival  of  the  gifts 
fired  her  curiosity,  Christine  had  to  admit  herself  baf- 
fled, and  presently  in  the  stress  of  other  matters,  the 
unsolved  problem  ceased  to  tease. 

Nearly  the  whole  day  after  Laurie's  accident 
slipped  by  before  Christine  could  bring  herself  to  carry 
out  a  plan  that  had  formed  itself  the  night  before  in 
her  last  waking  moments.  And  then  it  was  a  dictum 
of  Amelia's  that  made  her  take  herself  in  hand  and 
perform  the  hated  task. 

"  It  fair  breaks  my  heart  to  see  what  a  set-back  my 
boy's  had,"  mourned  the  old  nurse  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  "  What's  to  be  done  about  our  movin'  ?  "  she 
demanded  the  next  moment,  as  if  struck  by  a  new 
thought. 

Christine's  eyebrows  came  together  in  a  frown. 
"  That  worried  me  half  the  night.  Docky  said  it 


CHRISTINE'S  SURPRISE  BASKET     251 

would  be  a  month  before  he'd  be  up  and  around,  and 
to  move  him  — " 

"  It'd  kill  him,  sure  as  fate,"  Amelia  cut  in  with 
furious  intensity.  "  We  can't  move." 

"  We  must.  Mr.  Graves  promised  we'd  be  out  by 
the  end  of  the  week.  If  it  were  anyone  else  but  Mr. 
Barton,  that  old  monster — " 

Daffy,  who  had  been  conducting  a  heated  argument 
with  her  twin,  and  had  appeared  oblivious  to  her 
elders'  conversation,  broke  out  in  a  loud  cry,  "  He 
said  he'd  throw  us  out  in  the  street  like  beggars,  'n' 
now  —  'n'  now  he's  going  to  do  it." 

"  No,  he  isn't,  dear,"  Christine  soothed  the  weeping 
child.  "  We're  not  going  to  live  on  the  street,  but 
in  the  tiniest  little  doll's  house  you  ever  saw." 

Through  streaming  tears  Daffy  looked  up  to  in- 
quire, "  Where'll  our  mud-turtles  stay?" 

"  That's  a  poser.  The  whole  outfit  isn't  much  big- 
ger than  your  mud-turtle  tub,  but  I'm  sure  you  can 
take  some  — " 

"All  the  mamas  'n'  the  papas  'n'  lots  of  babies?" 
queried  Dilly,  and  Christine's  nod  sent  the  twins  scam- 
pering toward  the  back  yard  to  make  a  judicious  selec- 
tion of  the  pet-turtles  that  were  to  accompany  them. 

From  the  dining-room  window  she  watched  them  in- 
tently a  moment,  then  with  a  quaint  humility  she 
turned  to  Amelia  who  was  busily  piling  the  breakfast 
dishes  on  a  tray.  "  I'm  not  the  same  Christine  Trevor 
I  used  to  be,  am  I,  'Melia?" 

Amelia  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  fraction  of  a 
second.  There  was  a  new  sweetness  about  the  girl, 
an  exhalation  of  wistfulness.  "  You're  gettin'  more 


252      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

and  more  like  your  mother  every  day,"  the  old  woman 
mumbled  and  disappeared  into  the  kitchen  with  sus- 
picious haste. 

When  she  returned  several  minutes  later,  Christine 
still  stood  at  the  window,  her  cheeks  beautiful  with  a 
suffusion  of  color. 

"  I  know  now  what's  made-  the  difference  in  me. 
'  I've  learned  to  love  —  the  twins  and  Laurie  and  — " 
she  broke  off.  Her  eyes  had  lost  their  quiet.  They 
showed  a  glint  of  tears. 

But  Amelia  had  -not  noticed.  Her  mind  held  but 
one  subject,  her  lame  boy.  "  I  tell  you,  Laurie  can't 
be  moved,"  she  made  the  assertion  as  though  follow- 
ing out  an  uninterrupted  train  of  thought,  "  and  I'd 
go  down  on  my  knees  to  a  monster  ten  times  hate- 
fuller  than  Joshua  Barton  to  save  that  lamb's  life." 
With  that  she  was  gone. 

Amelia's  words  repeated  themselves  in  her  mind 
when  she  crept  into  Laurie's  room  in  the  middle  of 
the  morning,  and  found  him  fast  asleep.  The  deadly 
pallor  of  his  face  brought  her  ear  close  to  his  heart  in 
a  sudden  agony  of  apprehension.  He  was  breathing, 
but,  oh,  so  faintly  that  again  the  fear  that  he  would 
not  stay  with  them  assailed  her. 

He  was  sleeping,  too,  when  she  stood  by  his  bed- 
side midway  between  the  hours  of  three  and  four,  and 
again  Amelia's  words  rang  accusingly  in  her  ear.  For 
a  long,  long  moment  she  stood  there.  Laurie's  eyes 
opened,  and  he  smiled,  and  put  out  his  hand.  Having 
found  her  fingers,  he  raised  them  shyly  to  his  lips,  and 
with  a  whispered,  "  It's  so  nice  to  wake  up  and  find  you 
here,"  floated  off  again  on  the  stream  of  sleep. 

Thrusting  a  hat  on  her  head,  Christine  stole  softly 


253 

down  the  stairs,  through  the  dining-room  and  vaulted 
the  veranda  rail.  She  would  keep  her  errand  a  se- 
cret, until  she  should  return,  banners  flying  and 
proudly  proclaim  her  victory  over  the  monster,  Joshua 
Barton. 

On  the  lawn  she  quickened  her  already  hurried  pace 
to  a  run,  but  her  steps  lagged  when  she  reached  the 
clipped  archway  in  the  hedge  that  screened  the  "  Lonely 
House."  The  warring  of  her  moods  stayed  her  for 
a  breath.  He  had  forbidden  her  to  enter  his  grounds, 
and  she  had  vowed  by  all  that  she  held  sacred  never 
to  address  him  by  word  or  look.  She  couldn't  break 
faith  with  herself.  But  perhaps  Laurie's  life  was  at 
stake.  Her  pride  against  his  life. 

With  her  head  high  poised,  shoulders  up  and  her 
steps  firmly  crunching  the  gravel  of  the  path  as  if  she 
were  treading  her  pride  under  her  heel,  she  advanced 
toward  the  garden-chair  where  the  master  of  the  house 
spent  his  afternoons.  To  her  stirprise  the  chair  was 
unoccupied,  but  blankets,  rugs  and  cushions  were 
strewn  about  in  great  disorder  as  if  the  spot  had  been 
hastily  abandoned. 

Christine's  eyes  looked  forth  with  a  proud  direct- 
ness when  Mark  opened  the  door.  Unquestionably  he 
gasped  when  he  saw  her.  "I  —  you  — "  he  stam- 
mered, and  stopped,  a  slow  red  mounting  to  the  thin 
fringe  of  graying  hair  that  lay  along  his  forehead. 

"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Barton."  The  girl  spoke  with 
a  grave  deliberation. 

"Mr.  Barton!"  For  all  of  a  minute  the  man 
seemed  too  overcome  to  speak.  He  stood,  open- 
mouthed,  as  if  amazed  at  her  daring,  and  made  no 
move  to  admit  her. 


254      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  Yes ;  Mr.  Barton,"  Christine  repeated  a  bit  impa- 
tiently, "  But,"  she  added  hastily,  with  the  flicker  of  a 
smile,  "  you  needn't  trouble  to  announce  me." 

The  man  suddenly  seemed  to  come  to  a  realization 
of  his  duties.  "  Yes,  Miss,  this  way,  Miss,"  he  said, 
and  led  her  into  a  hall  that  to  her  eyes,  dazzled  with 
sunlight,  seemed  dark  as  a  tomb. 

Before  a  door,  closed  and  heavily  curtained  in  vel- 
vet, he  paused.  "  Perhaps  I'd  better  warn  —  tell  you, 
Miss,  Mr.  Barton's  not  in  a  very  good  way  to-day. 
He  met  with  —  er  —  a  slight  accident  a  short  time 
back,  and  he's  not  fully  recovered  himself." 

The  animation  of  curiosity  was  in  Christine's  voice. 
"  I  thought  something  must  have  happened  —  the 
cushions  and  things  looked  so  tumbled  about.  Was 
he  hurt?" 

"  Mostly  his  feelings,  Miss."  Mark  drew  his  hand 
across  his  lips.  Christine  was  certain  he  wiped  away 
a  smile.  "  He  waked  from  his  nap,  he  tells  me,  to  find 
himself  alive  with  —  er  —  mud-turtles,  Miss." 

The  gold-brown  eyes  lighted  with  a  growing  sur- 
prise, then,  in  spite  of  herself,  she  broke  into  a  spon- 
taneous laugh.  The  next  instant  she  grew  sober. 
"  Those  naughty  twinnies.  I'm  afraid  they  haven't 
helped  our  cause." 

A  smile  openly  touched  the  man's  lips  for  the  first 
time.  "  It  was  a  rare  sight,  Miss.  The  turtles  were 
crawling  over  him  thick  as  flies  about  a  jelly-jar,  and 
it  almost  cost  me  my  position,  but  I  had  to  laugh. 
How  those  little  scamps  ever  managed  it,  but  trust  'em 
to  plan  a  bit  of  mischief!  They're  real  young  'uns." 
An  unmistakable  note  of  admiration  rang  in  his  voice. 
"  I  took  a  fancy  to  'em  at  first  sight,  but  they're  not 


CHRISTINE'S  SURPRISE  BASKET      255 

like  the  lame  'un,"  he  added,  as  if  to  himself.  "  Might 
I  make  so  bold  as  to  inquire  of  you,  Miss,  how  his 
health  is  to-day?" 

"  He's  a  very  little  better,  thank  you,  Mark.  I'm 
so  grateful  to  you  for  carrying  him  in,  and  — " 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  Miss,  for  interrupting,  but 
it  was  nothing.  I  wish  I  could  have  done  a  sight 
more.  I've  been  thinking  about  him  and  wondering. 
You  see,  Mrs.  Amelia  promised  to  signal  me  every  day 
how  he  is,  but  she's  been  too  busy  or  she  forgot,  I 
fancy." 

"  Why  didn't  you  telephone  or  come  yourself  ?  " 

"  You  don't  know  Mr.  Barton,"  was  the  man's  sig- 
nificant reply.  "  You'd  better  go  in  now.  He'll  soon 
be  working  over  his  accounts,  and  no  one  is  allowed 
to  see  him  then.  I  have  it.  I'll  serve  tea  while  you 
are  with  him.  Tea  always  —  er  —  rather  soothes 
him."  With  that  he  parted  the  curtains  and  opened 
the  door  for  her. 

She  diffused  with  her  entrance  a  radiance  of  youth- 
ful life  into  the  dim,  high-ceiled,  old-fashioned  room 
with  its  furniture  of  black  walnut,  massive  and  price- 
less. Despite  the  warmth  of  the  July  day,  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house  sat  muffled  in  shawls  in  a  huge  arm- 
chair before  a  grate-fire  which  was  casting  fantastic 
shadows  on  ceiling  and  wall. 

"  Why  the  devil  don't  you  bring  my  tea?  "  he  thun- 
dered at  the  sound  of  footfalls.  "  You  know  I'm  suf- 
fering torments,  you  chucklehead." 

A  moment  passed  —  a  moment  or  a  century. 

"  Mark  has  gone  to  get  it,"  answered  Christine 
quietly,  over  the  stormy  beating  of  her  heart. 

Joshua  Barton  twisted  his  head  to  look  over  his 


256      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

shoulder  and  stared.  To  Christine's  excited  fancy  he 
seemed  to  be  staring  not  at  her,  but  through  her,  be- 
yond her. 

When  he  spoke,  it  was  as  if  he  were  still  in  the  daze 
of  a  dream.  "Where  did  you  come  from?"  His 
voice  was  choked  and  husky.  "  It's  been  years  now, 
and  I've  been  waiting  —  waiting.  I  knew  you'd 
come." 

Not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness  in  the  room  for  a 
brief  interval  of  time  but  the  snapping  of  the  logs  on 
the  hearth.  Suddenly  the  flames  leaped  high  and  il- 
lumined the  face  and  form  of  the  girl  who  stood  un- 
certainly well  within  the  room.  A  wave  of  blood 
surged  to  the  old  man's  face  and  receded,  leaving  him 
pallid  and  shaking  with  passion.  He  struck  his  hand 
down  on  the  chair-arm  with  a  thunderous  bang. 
"  How  dare  you  come  here  ?  Didn't  I  tell  you  I'd 
throw  you  out  neck  and  crop  if  ever  you  showed  your 
face  again  on  my  premises  ?  " 

"  It  took  some  courage  to  come  in  face  of  that 
threat,"  Christine  had  advanced  to  the  arm-chair,  and 
stood  within  range  of  his  eye.  She  spoke  calmly, 
though  her  nerves  were  tingling,  and  her  heart  beat  in 
her  throat.  Let  him  carry  out  his  threat.  She  was 
not  afraid.  She  was  afraid  of  nothing  now.  Laurie's 
life  was  her  stake.  "  And  if  my  love  hadn't  been 
stronger  than  my  pride,  I  couldn't  have  made  myself 
come." 

"  Love !  "  he  hooted  mockingly,  and  shot  at  her  a 
glance  of  frankest  scorn.  "  Love  for  me,  I  suppose. 
You're  probably  worried  about  my  soul,  and  want  me 
to  subscribe  to  some  old  woman's  home  or  a  school 
for  wild  girls  or  some  other  fool  enterprise  to  ensure 


CHRISTINE'S  SURPRISE  BASKET     257 

me  a  seat  in  Paradise.  But  I  tell  you  I  won't  give  you 
a  cent,  not  a  cent,  I  say."  He  emphasized  his  last 
words  with  another  smash  of  his  fist  against  the  wood 
of  the  chair. 

For  several  long,  endless  moments  after  he  finished 
the  silence  remained  unbroken ;  then  she  said,  "  I  don't 
want  a  cent  from  you.  It's  a  favor  that  won't  cost 
you—" 

"  A  favor,"  he  sneered.  "  You,  you  dare  ask  me 
for  a  favor.  You  —  Trevor !  Humph,  I'll  not  go 
into  that.  Accounts  are  almost  squared  now,"  his 
laugh  sent  a  bolt  of  fire  through  her.  "  Ha,  ha !  '  The 
mills  of  the  gods  grind  slowly.'  Your  father  had  to 
come  and  beg  on  bended  knees  for  a  favor,  oh,  not  for 
himself,  to  be  sure,"  his  sarcasm  cut  the  girl  like  a 
whip-stroke.  "  It  was  for  his  precious  St.  Mark's 
fund.  That  was  to  buy  him  a  front  seat  in  heaven,  I 
dare  say." 

"  So  it  was  you."  Christine  was  hardly  conscious 
that  she  spoke  aloud.  A  fragment  of  Mr.  Graves'  con- 
fidence to  Dr.  Denton,  overheard  in  the  latter's  office, 
started  unbidden  from  a  memory-cell.  "  I  long  to 
assure  him  with  my  own  tongue  he's  the  murderer  of 
John  Trevor,  as  fine  a  man  as  God  ever  set  on  this 
wicked  old  earth  —  had  he  negotiated  that  loan,  there'd 
be  dozens,  yes,  hundreds,  of  widows  and  orphans  of 
St.  Mark's  that  wouldn't  be  crying  their  eyes  out  this 
day  — " 

The  quiet  scorn  of  her  tone  lashed  him  into  sudden 
fury.  "  Yes,  it  was  I,  and  there  are  other  scores  to 
pay.  You,  it  was  you  who  turned  my  nephew  against 
me.  Oh,  I  know  you  and  your  kind.  You  coax  the 
heart  out  of  a  man's  breast  with  your  pretty  ways, 


258      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

and  then  toss  it  aside  like  a  broken  toy  for  another 
your  fancy  suggests.  And  you're  not  satisfied  to  turn 
that  boy  loose  in  the  world.  You  must  set  those  little 
beggars  to  torturing  me."  An  involuntary  shudder 
racked  his  emaciated  frame.  "  Ugh,  I  can  feel  them 
yet,  crawling,  crawling." 

"  I  suppose  it's  perfectly  useless  for  me  to  try  to 
explain.  You  won't  believe  me,  anyhow;  but  I'm 
sorry,  ever  so  sorry,  about  those  mud-turtles.  The 
twins  were  very  naughty  —  they  shall  be  punished,  but 
they  didn't  realize,  they're  just  kiddies  — " 

"  Huh,"  he  snorted,  "  it's  enough  to  cost  me  my  life, 
a  man  in  my  state.  Fine  mother  you  make,"  he  went 
off  on  another  tangent  of  fury.  "  What  do  you  know 
about  bringing  up  children?  " 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered,  with  unexpected  humil- 
ity, and  her  words  came  a  bit  brokenly.  "  It's  been, 
oh,  so  hard.  But,"  she  raised  her  head  and  looked 
straight  into  eyes  that  were  sharp  as  needle-points, 
"  you're  wrong,  all  wrong,  Mr.  Barton ;  Douglas  did 
not  leave  you  because  of  me.  He  wasn't  happy  — " 

"  He  wasn't  happy,  and  I'd  like  to  know  why  not," 
interrupted  the  other,  with  fierce  intensity.  "  A  boy 
picked  out  of  the  gutter  — " 

She  waited  until  his  rage  had  expended  itself  in  in- 
coherent mutterings  and  threats.  There  was  a  brief 
conflict  in  Christine's  mind;  then  either  because  she 
knew  that  her  cause  was  already  lost  or  realized  with 
her  native  quickness  of  comprehension  that  here  was  a 
rare  opportunity  to  plead  for  Douglas,  she  said  boldly, 
"  You  didn't  give  Doug  a  chance.  You  were  trying 
to  make  him  a  second  Joshua  Barton,  and  he  never 


CHRISTINE'S  SURPRISE  BASKET     259 

could  be  that.  He's  a  born  poet,  and  you  can't  make 
a  money-grubber  of  a  poet." 

She  waited,  expecting  a  tornado  of  angry  words. 
Instead  there  was  utter  quiet. 

"  Did  you  come  to  ask  a  favor  for  my  nephew?  "  he 
demanded,  after  a  moment,  turning  on  her  the  full 
battery  of  his  cold,  hard,  deep-sunken  eyes. 

She  met  his  regard  steadily.  Suddenly  there  came 
to  her  a  moment  of  vision.  With  the  eye  of  sym- 
pathy she  penetrated  the  layer  upon  layer  of  harsh- 
ness, selfishness,  misanthropy,  until  she  reached  the 
lonely,  suffering  heart  of  the  man. 

"  No,  Mr.  Barton,  but  Douglas  is  one  of  my  best 
friends,  and,  wherever  he  is,  I  wish  him  God-speed." 

"  Wherever  he  is,"  she  heard,  or  fancied  she  heard, 
him  repeat  her  words. 

It  was  a  full  minute  before  either  spoke.  The  old 
man  sat,  head  bowed,  staring  into  the  copper-colored 
flames  that  were  dancing  on  the  hearth,  and  the  girl 
waited  she  hardly  knew  for  what. 

The  quiet  entrance  of  Mark  with  the  tea-tray  broke 
the  spell. 

"  Get  out,  you  fool,"  the  old  man  roared,  raising  a 
crutch  threateningly.  "  Don't  you  know  better  than 
to  disturb  me  when  I'm  occupied?  " 

Silently  man  and  tray  disappeared. 

Mr.  Barton's  softened  mood,  if  it  had  been  a  sof- 
tened mood,  had  gone.  His  fingers  were  beating  an 
impatient  tattoo  on  the  chair-arm  as  he  turned  upon 
his  visitor  with  a  harsh,  "  Well,  out  with  it,  young 
lady.  What  brought  you  here?  " 

His  insolence  set  her  face  aflame,  but  she  managed 


26o      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

to  answer  calmly,  "  I  want  to  rent  Rain-on-the-Roof, 
I  mean  our  house,  your  house,  the  house  you've  just 
bought,  for  one  month.  You  see  — " 

"  No,"  he  bellowed,  "  no,  not  for  one  day.  I  said 
Saturday,  and  Saturday  it  is." 

"  My  brother  Laurie,  the  lame  one,"  she  persisted, 
as  quietly  as  the  fire  of  her  wrath  would  let  her,  "  was 
thrown  almost  under  the  street-car  yesterday,  and  the 
doctor  said  he  must  not  be  moved  for  a  month." 

"  H'm."  He  tapped  the  ends  of  his  fleshless  fin- 
gers together  as  he  appeared  to  hesitate,  then  his  jaws 
clamped  and  his  face  hardened  until  it  was  like  stone. 
"  Life's  been  one  round  of  torture  for  me  since  you  — 
you  Trevors  came,  that  fiddling,  those  little  beggars. 
No,  I  said  Saturday,  and  Saturday  it  is."  With  a  per- 
emptory wave  of  the  hand  he  dismissed  her. 

The  next  day  was  Christine's  twentieth  birthday. 
The  early  morning  mail  brought  her  two  letters  from 
Cort  which  she  promptly  locked  away  with  a  growing 
collection  of  others  in  her  desk-drawer.  He  was  trav- 
eling about  in  the  mountains,  she  knew,  and  that  final 
letter  of  hers  had  not  as  yet  reached  him.  Later  in 
the  morning  a  great  florist's  box  was  delivered  to  her, 
and  presently  twenty  splendid  yellow  orchids  were 
shedding  an  incense  in  the  room.  Cort  had  remem- 
bered her  fancy  for  yellow  orchids.  An  hour  before 
noon  she  was  busily  packing  books  in  the  living-room 
when  Amelia  appeared  with  a  small  package. 

Christine  dropped  to  the  floor  with  a  tired  sigh,  and 
unwrapped  the  paper  covering  from  a  green  satin  box. 
Releasing  the  catch,  she  saw  a  magnificent  large  square- 
cut  emerald  outlined  in  diamonds  attached  to  the  mer- 
est thread  of  a  platinum  chain.  Mechanically  she  read 


CHRISTINE'S  SURPRISE  BASKET     261 

the  enclosed  card.  "  For  the  wife-to-be  of  Cortland 
Van  Ness." 

A  grim  little  smile  touched  her  lips  as  she  repeated 
under  her  breath,  "  For  the  wife-to-be  of  Cortland 
Van  Ness,  yes,  but  not  for  Christine  Trevor." 

For  a  moment  she  gazed  contemplatively  at  the 
lovely  jewel.  Once  it  would  have  thrilled  her  with 
delight.  Now  she  found  herself  wondering  its  pre- 
cise worth  —  several  thousand  dollars,  she  presumed. 
That  would  mean  boots  and  socks  and  other  things  for 
the  twins  and  a  trip  to  the  seashore  for  Laurie  and  — 
She  brought  herself  up  with  a  start,  and  thrusting  the 
necklace  into  the  case,  closed  it  with  a  vicious  snap 
and  slipped  the  box  into  an  apron  pocket.  It  should 
presently  be  added  to  the  desk-drawer  collection. 

Other  gifts  came  during  the  day,  a  bunch  of  wild- 
flowers  gathered  and  presented  by  two  small  persons 
with  damp  hair  and  grimy  hands,  but  with  eyes  and 
lips  brimful  of  love.  A  beautifully  framed  miniature 
of  her  father  from  Laurie  brought  quick  tears  to  her 
eyes.  Hardly  had  she  wiped  them  away  when  again 
they  overflowed  at  sight  of  Amelia's  gift,  a  small  knit- 
ted purse  of  silk,  every  stitch  of  which  must  have 
pained  the  old,  knotted,  rheumatic  hands.  Misery, 
too,  came  presently  to  lay  her  offering  of  a  hand-em- 
broidered towel  at  the  shrine  of  her  adored  young 
mistress,  and  Freddy  Blue  had  in  some  mysterious  way 
learned  the  importance  of  the  day,  for  Tommy  trotted 
in  about  mid-afternoon  with  a  loving  note  and  a  batch 
of  famous  "  Blue  "  cookies. 

But  though  the  hours  were  crowded  with  the  labor 
of  packing,  Christine  was  waiting  with  the  eager  im- 
patience of  her  nature  for  another  gift  that  had  never 


262      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

yet  failed  to  arrive  on  her  birthday  since  she  had  be- 
gun on  her  teens.  Docky  always  remembered  her 
with  a  basket  of  white  roses,  and  buried  somewhere  in 
the  basket  she  was  sure  to  find  another  smaller  token, 
sometimes  a  tiny  gold  thimble,  again  a  jeweled  pencil, 
or  a  brooch  or  some  one  of  the  hundred  trinkets  that 
intrigue  a  young  girl's  fancy.  She  had  never  out- 
grown the  ever-new  enchantment  of  surprise.  As  the 
afternoon  wore  on,  her  eyes  would  wander  to  the 
clock  on  the  mantel.  It  had  never  come  as  late  as 
this.  Surely  he  had  not  forgotten.  But  when  she 
ran  out  into  the  garden  to  fill  her  young  lungs  with  a 
breath  of  air,  and  saw  that  the  white  stars  had  al- 
ready grown  visible  in  the  deep-blue  night  sky,  her 
heart  sank.  He  had  forgotten.  Well,  she  supposed 
she  must  learn  the  hard  lesson;  it  was  Freddy,  not 
she,  who  — 

A  roadster  swung  up  the  carriage  drive  and  Dr. 
Denton  sprang  out.  She  felt  a  wild  thrill  of  joy. 
Impulsively  she  began  to  run  toward  him,  then  a  shy- 
ness held  her  where  she  was.  She  would  wait  until 
he  had  passed  into  the  house,  then —  But  he  spied 
her,  slim  and  white  as  a  nymph  hovering  close  to  a 
great  bush  of  syringa  which  was  filling  the  dusk  with 
a  heavy,  palpitating  sweetness. 

She  could  not  lift  her  eyes  when  he  came  toward 
her,  and  called  her  name.  She  could  not  lift  her  eyes 
when  he  caught  both  of  her  hands  in  one  of  his.  What 
.he  was  saying,  she  could  not  for  the  life  of  her  have 
told.  She  only  knew  that  every  pulse  was  throbbing, 
throbbing,  and  her  heart  was  singing  to  the  music  of 
his  voice. 

His  laugh,  which  always  sent  thrills  of  happiness 


CHRISTINE'S  SURPRISE  BASKET     263 

through  her,  suddenly  rang  out,  and  she  came  out  of 
her  daze  to  hear  him  say,  "  You're  dreaming,  Goldi- 
locks. I  believe  I've  made  all  my  pretty  speeches  in 
vain.  Well,"  he  said,  with  a  quick  glance  at  his 
watch,  "  I  haven't  time  to  repeat  them.  I'm  on  my 
way  to  the  hospital  now.  This  has  been  a  rushed  day 
—  enough  work  for  two.  I've  been  figuring  around 
the  last  few  hours  how  I  could  get  out  here.  I  fairly 
stole  the  time,  as  it  is.  I'll  look  in  on  Laurie,  and 
when  I  come  to-morrow,  we  can  talk  over  the  final 
arrangements  to  have  him  brought  to  my  apartments 
until  the  fuss  of  moving  is  over." 

Together  they  walked  across  the  moon-white  lawn, 
that  is,  in  all  probability,  Dr.  Denton  walked,  but 
Christine  floated  on  threads  of  moonlight.  Not  until 
they  were  ascending  the  steps,  her  feet  still  light  as 
Mercury's,  did  she  see  that  he  carried  a  basket  of 
roses. 

"  A  few  posies  for  you,  Princess  Goldilocks,"  he 
said,  when  they  were  well  within  the  living-room.  And 
once  more  the  thought  struck  him  r.s  she  stood,  eyes 
downcast,  the  light  from  the  soft-shaded  table-lamp 
striking  golden  lights  from  her  red-gold  hair  that  she 
was  like  a  fresh-cut,  fragrant  flower. 

Silently  she  held  out  her  hands  for  the  gift,  but  now 
she  lifted  her  eyes  to  him.  They  were  cloudily  sweet, 
and  her  lips  were  smiling.  "  I'm  so  happy,"  she  said 
in  a  breathless  whisper,  and  her  smile  deepened  at  his 
answer,  "  I  wish  I  were  your  fairy  godmother  to  keep 
you  always  so." 

The  room  was  singularly  quiet  for  a  moment,  while 
he  looked  at  her  as  if  he  were  trying  to  gauge  her. 
Then,  with  a  quickly  suppressed  sigh,  he  gravely  im- 


264      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

parted,  "  I  thought  long  and  hard,  Goldilocks,  before 
I  decided  on  your  birthday  basket  this  year.  You'll 
find  a  package  that  was  entrusted  to  me  long  ago,  to 
be  given  to  you  when  you  were  a  young  lady.  Unless 
I'm  mistaken,  you're  grown  up  now." 

Christine  smiled  up  at  him  suddenly  with  an  un- 
looked-for and  alluring  audacity.  "  I'm  a  real  grown- 
up, Docky.  I  feel  it  in  every  bone."  Then  with  one 
of  her  quick  transitions  from  gaiety  to  soberness,  she 
moved  imperceptibly  closer,  and  clasping  his  arm  with 
both  hands  in  a  childishly  appealing  fashion,  said, 
"  So  much  has  happened  since  you  came  back  I  haven't 
had  time  to  tell  you,  and  even  now  I  know  every  min- 
ute of  your  time  is  precious,  but  I  want  you  to  know 
I'm  going  to  earn  a  living  for  the  family  by  dancing. 
Professor  Armande  thinks  I  can  soon  accept  an  en- 
gagement." 

She  waited  for  a  storm  of  protest.  It  was  not 
forthcoming,  but  after  a  moment,  in  which  he  looked 
down  at  her  in  a  puzzled  sort  of  way,  he  rejoined, 
"  Cort'll  have  something  to  say  on  that  subject,  I  fancy. 
Isn't  he  homeward  bound  now?  " 

Cort's  name  was  magic  to  unlock  her  clasp.  "I  — 
I  don't  know,"  her  lips  trembled,  and  for  a  heart's  beat 
she  held  out  her  ringless  left  hand  to  him. 

There  was  in  his  eyes  sympathy,  understanding,  ten- 
derness, she  hardly  knew  what.  But  whatever  it  was 
brought  a  quick  blur  of  tears,  and  turning,  she  sped 
from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A    DIARY 

The  bedtime  story  had  to  be  told  to  the  twins  and 
the  last  visit  of  the  night  paid  to  Laurie  before  Chris- 
tine was  free  to  give  herself  up  to  the  delights  of  the 
"  surprise "  basket.  Even  then,  she  sat  for  a  long 
time  at  the  window,  dreaming  out  into  the  midsummer 
dusk,  while  the  roses  offered  her  their  incense  un- 
heeded. 

Presently  she  roused  herself,  and  snapping  on  the 
desk-lamp  close  beside  her,  in  the  rich  golden  light  it 
shed  over  her  and  the  surroundings,  began  to  explore. 
Beneath  the  roses  buried  in  a  bed  of  moss  she  found 
a  small,  beaten  silver  jewel-box,  with  her  initials  beau- 
tifully engraved,  and  inside  on  its  yellow  satin  bed 
lay  Dr.  Denton's  card  of  birthday  good  wishes. 

A  shadow  of  disappointment  passed  over  her  face. 
Was  that  all?  Why  had  Docky  been  so  mysterious 
and  what  had  he  meant  when  he  said,  "  You'll  find  a 
package  that  was  entrusted  to  me  long  ago?  "  There 
must  be  something  else. 

At  the  very  bottom  of  the  basket  she  found  it,  a 
small  package  carefully  wrapped  and  tied.  It  was 
addressed  to  "  my  darling  daughter,  Christine,  to  be 
given  to  her  when  she  is  old  enough  to  understand." 

With  fingers  that  trembled,  Christine  threw  off  the 
wrappings.  It  was  a  diary  written  in  her  mother's 
hand.  For  a  long,  long  time,  the  girl  sat,  head  bowed, 

265 


266      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

lost  in  memories  of  her  beautiful  and  adored  young 
mother. 

The  delicate  chimes  of  a  clock  on  the  desk  warned  of 
the  lateness  of  the  hour.  Reverently  she  touched  the 
book.  It  fell  open  at  the  last  entry.  It  was  dated 
the  day  before  the  birth  of  the  twins.  She  read, 

"  The  thought  has  been  strong  upon  me  for  the  past 
few  days  that  the  sands  of  my  life  are  running,  run- 
ning short.  So  I  am  trying  to  get  my  house  in  order. 
In  setting  my  desk  to  rights  this  morning,  I  came  upon 
my  dear  little  old  diary,  and  it,  once  the  confidante  of 
all  my  joys  and  sorrows,  vividly  has  revived  the  past 
that  I  hoped  was  buried  beneath  the  happiness  the 
years  have  brought  me. 

"  But  to-night  it  all  comes  back,  and  I  can  not  run 
away  from  it  as  in  other  times.  Perhaps  it  will  ease 
my  heart  to  write  it  out.  My  husband,  fond  lover 
that  he's  been  all  these  years,  would  never  let  me 
speak  of  it.  He's  always  said  we  turned  the  lock  on 
the  past,  and  threw  the  key  away.  Perhaps  I  shall 
leave  this  confession  for  my  little  Christine.  It  may 
help  her  to  know  the  mother  she  is  soon  to  lose.  The 
chance  may  be  given  to  her  to  right  my  wrong.  Who 
knows?  Inexplicable  are  the  ways  of  Providence." 

A'  rush  of  tears  blurred  the  letters.  On  the  screen 
of  her  memory  had  flashed  a  picture.  She  could  see  it 
clearly  in  all  its  details,  the  nursery  in  the  twilight 
hour  with  only  the  wavering  flames  from  the  grate- 
fire  for  light,  and  herself  at  the  feet  of  her  golden- 
haired  mother.  She  could  hear  her  mother  in  low- 
voiced  musing,  "  It  may  be  left  for  you  to  right  a 
wrong  of  mine.  But,  no,  child,  you're  too  young  to 
have  your  life  shadowed  with  my  burden.  Per- 


A  DIARY  267 

haps — "  She  had  stopped  on  half  a  word  at  the  un- 
expected appearance  of  the  master  of  the  house. 

"  It  all  seems  so  long  ago,  I  hardly  know  where  to 
begin,"  the  little  diary  went  on,  "  but  if  it  is  to  be 
made  clear  to  Christine  and  keep  her  young  soul  clean 
of  the  taint  of  selfishness  that  has  always  been  my 
sin,  I  must  try  to  tell  everything  truthfully.  There 
must  be  no  concealment,  hard  as  it  is  to  tear  open 
one's  very  own  heart.  But  my  husband  must  never 
see  this.  It  would  wound  him  deeply,  and  he  might 
think  I  had  regrets,  and  regrets  I  never  have  had,  not 
for  even  a  second.  But  he  might  not  understand.  So 
I  shall  give  this  into  the  keeping  of  our  friend  and 
physician,  Dr.  Denton,  as  a  trust  for  my  little  girl. 

"  Perhaps  it  will  be  easier  for  me  if  I  tell  it  to  you, 
darling  Christie,  and  so  with  your  trustful  eyes  on 
my  face,  your  hand  in  my  hand,  I  shall  make  my  con- 
fession. 

"  To-night  my  guilt  weighs  as  heavily  upon  me  as 
if  I  had  killed  some  one,  for  I  have  done  worse  than 
rob  a  man  of  his  life.  I  left  him  alive  but  without  a 
heart,  and  with  faith  in  mankind  gone  forever. 

"  You  must  know,  my  little  Christie,  that  when 
barely  a  year  older  than  you,  I  found  myself  utterly 
alone  in  the  world,  without  a  blood  relative.  My 
father  was  a  mill-owner,  and  accounted  a  wealthy 
man.  The  last  few  years  of  his  life  —  he  outlived 
mother  less  than  three  years  —  we  traveled  every- 
where to  rebuild  his  health.  Mother  had  been  a 
beauty,  and  he  worshipped  me  because  I  was  her 
replica,  so  I  grew  up,  spoiled,  selfish,  with  not  a 
thought  for  anyone  else  or  anything  else  but  my  own 
immediate  pleasure. 


268      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  On  father's  death,  which  happened  very  suddenly 
in  a  small  Italian  lake-town,  my  guardian  came  to 
take  me  home.  I  had  never  seen  him  before.  He 
was  a  college  friend  of  father's,  a  shy,  silent,  bookish 
man  who  led  a  singularly  lonely  life  in  spite  of  his 
great  inherited  wealth  because  of  an  accident  in  his 
boyhood  which  set  him  on  crutches  for  the  rest  of  his 
life.  From  the  very  first  he  was  my  abject  slave. 
Father  had,  as  I  said  before,  overindulged  me,  but  to 
my  guardian  I  was  all  of  life.  He  was  as  alone  in 
the  world  as  I.  He  had  a  brother,  I  remember 
vaguely  now  —  he  mentioned  him  once  —  but  there 
had  been  some  quarrel  and  they  never  came  together 
again.  He  seemed  to  live  only  to  gratify  my  desires 
almost  before  they  were  conceived.  Surely  no  princess 
of  royal  blood  had  more  lavish  gifts  showered  upon 
her,  and  he  sent  far  and  wide  for  the  best  tutors.  I 
had  a  small,  rather  sweet  voice,  and  he  spent  a  fortune 
to  cultivate  it.  He  was  passionately  fond  of  music, 
and  could  play  the  violin  in  a  masterly  fashion.  He 
was  always  my  accompanist  and  after  all  these  years 
I  can  still  see  the  light  shining  in  his  sunken  eyes 
when  I'd  sing  his  favorite,  '  Oh,  that  we  two  were 
Maying.' 

"  Money  meant  nothing  to  me,  I  had  an  unlimited 
spending  account,  and  spent  it  like  water  in  peacock- 
ing myself,  and  whatever  whimsy  of  fashion  I  chose 
to  dance  after,  my  guardian  admired  me  as  if  I  had 
been  a  reigning  beauty. 

"  The  night  of  my  eighteenth  birthday  he  came  out 
of  his  shell  for  my  sake,  and  gave  a  splendid  coming- 
out  ball.  I  had  just  slipped  away  from  the  hands  of 
my  maid  who  had  decked  me  out  in  a  perfect  fairy 


A  DIARY  269 

confection  of  lace  and  tulle  for  the  great  event,  when 
he  entered  my  dressing-room.  I  shall  never  forget 
his  eyes  when  he  saw  me.  They  seemed  fairly  ablaze. 
Somehow  I  was  frightened  when  he  clasped  on  my 
throat  a  string  of  pink  pearls  that  would  have  turned 
the  head  of  even  an  older  and  more  experienced 
woman. 

"  Suddenly  he  caught  me  by  the  shoulders  and  drew 
me  close  to  him,  and  kissed  me,  then  kissed  me  again 
and  again,  and  again  until  I  was  limp  and  breathless. 
I  never  could  remember  afterwards  how  it  came  about, 
but  when  the  guests  arrived  a  great  ruby  was  burning 
on  my  engagement  finger,  and  I  was  presented  to  the 
world  as  my  guardian's  affianced  wife. 

"Of  course,  he  could  not  dance,  but  I  could  feel 
those  eyes  of  his  watching,  watching  me,  whenever  a 
partner  came  to  claim  me  for  a  dance,  and  I  could 
feel  them  following  me  wherever  I  went. 

"  I  remember  as  clearly  as  if  it  had  happened  yes- 
terday that  the  clock  was  striking  twelve  when  there 
was  a  stir  among  the  guests,  and  everybody  crowded 
toward  the  door  to  welcome  a  newcomer.  I  remem- 
ber, too,  I  pouted  and  refused  to  break  off  an  un- 
usually pleasant  waltz  to  meet  the  stranger,  and  even 
when  my  guardian  insisted,  as  usual  I  had  my  way. 
It  was  not  until  I  was  in  my  proper  setting,  as  I  chose 
to  think  it,  in  the  rose-bower  my  guardian  had  had 
set  up  for  me  at  one  end  of  the  ballroom,  that  I 
deigned  to  meet  him.  When  I  looked  into  his  eyes,  I 
knew  only  one  emotion  —  I  was  sorry  I  had  delayed 
meeting  him  for  five  whole  minutes.  He  was  the 
young  man  who  owned  the  house  next  door,  closed 
since  his  father's  death  a  year  before,  while  he  was 


270      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

globe-trotting.  He  had  but  just  arrived  home,  he  told 
me,  and  had  hastened  to  pay  his  respects,  late  though 
they  were,  to  his  debutante  neighbor." 

"  Why,  he  was  father.  How  perfectly  thrilling !  " 
Christine  cried  out,  in  sudden  amazement.  "  I'm  be- 
ginning to  understand.  A  thousand  things  are  clear 
now.  So  that's  why  Joshua  Barton — " 

She  was  deep  in  the  diary  again. 

"  From  that  time  on  the  rest  of  the  evening  slipped 
by  like  a  dream.  I  only  remember  I  cut  all  the  dances 
to  sit  in  the  conservatory  with  him  or  wander  through 
the  gardens  on  his  arm  or  dance  together  to  the  music 
in  our  hearts. 

"  For  the  first  time  I  learned  the  blackness  and  fury 
of  my  guardian's  temper.  But  I  did  not  heed  his 
ravings.  I  listened  and  smiled,  for  my  heart  was 
singing. 

"  And  day  by  day  the  song  in  my  heart  grew  sweeter 
and  more  exquisite,  as  day  by  day  my  next-door  neigh- 
bor sought  me  out.  We  sang  and  played  together, 
boated,  drove,  rode  horseback,  and  danced  the  hours 
of  night  away  in  each  other's  arms. 

"  Then  came  the  night  when  we  confessed  our  love 
for  each  other,  and  we  said  we  should  die  of  our  di- 
vine madness  if  we  were  kept  apart.  He  wanted  me 
to  be  married  that  night  —  we  were  at  a  house-party 
at  his  aunt's  country  home,  and  she  openly  favored 
our  love.  But  over  ail  these  years  the  thought  comes 
to  comfort  me  I  first  gave  back  my  troth  to  Joshua 
Barton  before  I  became  your  father's  wife. 

"  It  was  a  bitter  time  I  had  with  my  guardian. 
Even  yet  his  curses  and  threats  of  revenge  ring  in  my 
ears.  I  can  still  see  his  face  distorted  with  fury  as  he 


A  DIARY  271 

screamed,  "  You've  lived  on  my  bounty  all  these  years. 
Your  father  died  penniless.  Sometime  I'll  get  it  back, 
penny  upon  penny,  and  interest  too,  for  the  heart's 
blood  you've  wrung  from  me." 

"  And  he's  kept  his  word,"  Christine  caught  her 
breath  quiveringly.  "  But  for  him  father  might  still 
be  alive  and  St.  Mark's  fund  —  Laurie  —  the  doll- 
house  of  a  bungalow."  She  was  too  agitated  from  all 
she  had  read  to  think  clearly.  Her  mind  shuttled 
from  one  item  to  another.  Another  memory  glinted 
in  her  tired  brain,  Joshua  Barton  as  she  had  seen  him 
that  afternoon  in  her  one  moment  of  vision.  "  But, 
oh,  mother,  he's  a  poor  lonely  old  man." 

Her  eyes  were  again  on  the  little  diary  when  the 
night's  stillness  was  broken  by  the  quick,  sharp  bark 
of  a  dog.  Again  it  came,  and  again.  Wrinkles! 
Christine  sprang  to  her  feet. 

Amelia  must  have  neglected  to  bed  him  as  usual  in 
the  barn.  She  must  get  to  him  before  he  waked 
Laurie. 

"  Wrinkles,"  Christine  whistled  softly  as  she  let 
herself  out  by  the  front  door.  "  Wrinkles,  this  way, 
old  boy,"  she  called  again,  and  sped  over  the  lawn. 
He  was  racing  like  mad  towards  the  Barton  grounds 
and  barking  with  all  his  small  might.  At  the  sound 
of  her  voice  he  darted  back,  leaped  about  her  in  cir- 
cles, and  still  barking  madly,  ran  ahead  of  her.  What 
possessed  the  creature  to  run  as  if  the  fiends  were 
after  him?  Was  she  dreaming,  or  was  that  a  plume 
of  smoke  rising  from  the  "Lonely  House"  tower? 
She  stopped  for  an  instant,  and  stared.  It  was  smoke. 
Then  a  tongue  of  fire  lifted  itself  and  was  gone.  Her 
weary  mind  groped  for  a  heart-beat,  then  she  knew. 


272      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

That  tower  was  Joshua  Barton's  bedroom,  and  it 
was  on  fire. 

Christine  was  always  a  good  runner,  but  she  beat 
her  own  record  that  night  in  reaching  the  Barton 
front-door.  She  rang  three  times,  before  there  was 
any  signs  of  life,  then  she  heard  some  one  stirring, 
and  after  a  minute  —  to  her  it  seemed  an  hour  — 
Mark  in  bathrobe  and  slippers  was  inquiring  sleepily 
what  the  disturbance  was  all  about.  He  still  moved 
mechanically  as  in  the  haze  of  a  dream,  even  after  her 
quick,  excited  explanation,  so  it  was  she  who  com- 
manded the  situation,  and  curiously  enough,  it  was 
she  who  raced  ahead  up  the  stairs  to  the  tower-room. 
She  had  no  sense  of  strangeness.  Instead  she  ex- 
perienced a  sudden  vivid  feeling  that  she  had  mounted 
those  steps  countless  times  before.  Perhaps  the  last- 
ing impression  on  her  mother's  brain  had  somehow 
descended  to  her.  Perhaps  she  obeyed  some  impulse 
of  her  subconscious  mind.  Howbeit,  unerringly  she 
made  her  way  to  Joshua  Barton's  room,  once  her 
mother's  boudoir,  through  the  cloud  of  smoke  that 
was  already  pouring  out  into  the  upper  hallway.  The 
memory  of  her  mother  hung  so  strangely  over  her 
that  she  had  the  sensation  of  being  perfectly  at  home. 

It  was  Christine  who  flung  open  the  door,  and  beat 
her  way,  choking,  strangled,  blinded,  into  the  smoke- 
filled  room.  It  was  Christine,  too,  who  helped  Mark 
who  was  beginning  to  assemble  his  scattered  senses, 
half-carry,  half-drag  his  unconscious  master  down  the 
rear  stairs  —  a  burst  of  flames  had  already  cut  off  the 
front  staircase  —  and  into  the  living-room. 

"  We  can't  stay  here,"  panted  Christine,  as  the 
crackling  of  the  flames  grew  louder,  and  smoke  began 


A  DIARY  273 

to  seep  in  through  the  closed  door.  "  The  whole  house 
is  afire.  We  must  get  him  out." 

"But  where?"  Mark  wrung  his  hands  helplessly. 
"  I'm  here  alone.  Mr.  Barton  discharged  the  three 
Mexican  servants  to-day,  and — " 

"  You're  not  alone.  I'm  here.  We'll  carry  him 
over  to  my  house,  and  then  you  turn  in  the  alarm." 

"  Your  house,  Miss." 

Amazement  paralyzed  him  for  a  moment,  then  to- 
gether they  managed  to  carry  the  dead  weight  of 
Joshua  Barton  across  what  seemed,  at  least  to  Chris- 
tine's tight  nerves  and  straining  muscles,  an  unending 
stretch  of  lawn,  and  into  what  had  been  John  Trevor's 
boyhood  home.  On  her  own  bed  they  laid  him,  still 
unmindful  of  where  he  was  or  what  was  going  on. 

"  I'll  get  'Melia  to  look  after  him.  You  turn  in  the 
alarm  while  I'll  hot-foot  it  for  his  doctor  —  it's  Dr. 
Marsh,  isn't  it,  that  I've  seen  coming  to  your  house? 
Our  phone's  been  out  of  order  since  yesterday.  Now 
don't  waste  time  arguing.  You  can  do  more  good 
here  than  I.  You  see,  I'll  be  back  before  you  know 
I'm  gone." 

Christine's  tone  was  as  cool  and  matter-of-fact  as 
if  it  were  a  mere  commonplace  for  her  to  be  going  for 
a  doctor  for  Joshua  Barton  in  the  dead  of  night 
through  several  deserted  streets. 

The  hall-clock  had  pealed  three  times,  when  at  last 
she  threw  her  weary  self  on  a  bed  which  Misery  had 
improvised  for  her  in  the  nursery. 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  a  longer  visit  from  Joshua 
Barton  than  you're  reckoning  on."  Dr.  Marsh's  part- 
ing words  repeated  themselves  over  and  over  in  her 
tired  brain  in  her  last  moments  of  consciousness. 


274      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  Both  he  and  his  home  are  a  wreck.  You've  taken 
upon  yourself  a  hard  task,  young  lady.  I'm  sorry  for 
you." 

During  the  subsequent  days  Christine  found  she  had 
undertaken  a  hard  task,  one  that  sometimes  strained  to 
the  breaking-point  nerves,  strength,  patience,  but  she 
never  felt  sorry  for  herself.  It  was  a  task  of  love 
she  had  undertaken.  She  was  trying  to  make  repara- 
tion for  her  mother's  old-time  broken  promise. 

Though  only  Mark  was  allowed  in  the  sick-room, 
Christine  devised  many  unobtrusive  ways  and  means 
of  contributing  to  the  patient's  comfort,  and  in  her 
heart  rejoiced  at  each  opportunity  to  serve  him.  One 
morning  she  was  preparing  his  breakfast  tray  with 
their  finest  egg-shell  china  and  old  silver  when  Mark 
appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  I'm  a  bit  late  this  morning,"  she  apologized.  "  He 
isn't  any  worse?"  she  asked,  looking  up  in  sudden 
alarm  at  Mark's  unusual  silence. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Better,  I  should  say.  First 
time  he's  sworn  at  me.  But  —  but  something's  up. 
He  wants  to  see  you  right  away.  If  he  gets  nasty  - 

"  Don't  look  so  worried.  He  isn't  going  to  bite 
my  head  off.  He  probably  wants  to  tell  us  our  room's 
worth  our  company.  To-morrow's  moving  day  for 
us,  you  know.  I'll  come  when  he's  finished  break- 
fast." 

Joshua  Barton  had  breakfasted,  and  with  appetite, 
from  the  appearance  of  the  tray  when  Christine  tapped 
and  slipped  into  the  room. 

Propped  high  among  the  pillows,  he  looked  thin- 
ner, more  forbidding  than  ever.  His  face,  always 
pale,  had  a  strange  clay-like  color,  and  his  deep-sunken 


A  DIARY  275 

eyes  were  cold  and  hard  like  gray  stone,  but  there  was 
that  in  the  trembling  lips  and  chin,  in  the  working  of 
the  thin  fingers,  in  the  air  of  helplessness,  that  tugged 
appealingly  at  her  heart-strings. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said,  and  on  a  sudden  im- 
pulse held  out  both  her  hands. 

He  stared,  the  picture  of  amazement,  but  made  no 
move  to  take  her  hands.  She  felt  as  if  icy  water  had 
been  dashed  into  her  face.  There  was  a  moment  of 
quiet  in  which  a  clock  on  her  dressing-table  ticked. 

"  You  sent  for  me,"  she  said  at  last. 

Still  he  studied  her  face  without  speaking,  then  — 
"  Why  did  you  do  it  ?  "  The  words  seemed  to  fall 
from  his  lips  without  his  own  volition. 

"  Do  what?  "  she  parried,  having  arrived  at  one  of 
her  characteristically  swift  decisions  that  serenity 
would  be  her  best  card.  Regardless  of  provocation, 
she  would  keep  unruffled.  She  would  bear  in  mind 
that  last  entry  in  her  mother's  diary. 

"  Save  my  life,  get  the  doctor  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  turn  yourself  out  of  here  for  me  " —  he  set  her 
head  spinning  with  his  cyclonic  rejoinder.  "  Now 
don't  say  it  was  nothing,"  he  blazed  at  her  suddenly, 
as  she  opened  her  lips  to  speak.  "  No  mock-modesty 
with  me.  My  life  may  mean  nothing  to  you,  but 
strange  to  say,  it  has  still  some  worth  to  me,  and  the 
doctor  tells  me  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more  in  that 
smoke — "  He  finished  with  an  expressive  gesture. 

Christine  pondered  the  situation  for  a  moment. 
With  a  sudden  inrush  of  perception,  she  understood 
that  much  depended  on  this  interview  and  she  real- 
ized, too,  that  her  answer  to  his  question  was  the  crux 
of  the  whole  interview.  With  nice  deliberation  she 


276      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

told  the  truth.  "  I  didn't  stop  to  think.  I  just  did 
what  I  did.  I'd  have  done  it  for  anyone." 

"  Humph,"  he  moved  his  head  uneasily  —  "  not  es- 
pecially flattering.  You'd  have  done  it  for  anyone. 
Well,  perhaps  that's  not  the  point  at  issue.  Why  did 
you  do  it?  You  saved  my  life,  and  that  after  yester- 
day." 

"  Mark  would  probably  have  waked  up,  and  — " 

"  Not  he,  that  blockhead,"  he  interrupted  rudely  — 
"  sleeps  like  a  log  at  all  times,  and  I've  a  private  be- 
lief—  Marsh  doesn't  hold  with  me,  though — that 
those  Mexicans  fixed  up  his  coffee  so  the  fire  could 
make  headway  before  he'd  come  to  and  realize  what 
was  happening.  Pretty  little  scheme  of  revenge.  Al- 
most cost  my  life.  And  now,  young  lady,"  he  shot 
his  question  at  her  with  an  insolence  that  made  her 
flame  with  quick  anger,  "  what  are  your  terms?  " 

"Terms?     I  haven't  any." 

"  Terms,  reward,  whatever  you  choose  to  call  it,"  he 
returned,  impatiently.  "  You  saved  my  life,  as  I've 
told  you  for  the  third  or  fourth  time,  and  it  isn't  like 
Joshua  Barton  to  owe  any  human  for  anything.  Name 
your  price." 

Christine  remained  silent.  Her  thoughts  were  all 
with  the  enshrined  image  of  her  mother.  For  her 
dear  sake  she  must  contain  herself,  and  control  her 
burning  resentment.  She  continued  to  regard  him 
through  lowered  lashes  while  she  fought  for  self-con- 
trol. 

Her  absorption  irritated  him. 

"  Come,  come,  don't  hesitate.  Make  your  price 
high  as  you  like." 


A  DIARY  277 

Hot  words  rushed  to  her  lips,  but  with  a  mighty 
effort  she  held  them  back. 

"  I  never  thought  of  a  reward,"  she  insisted,  "  I'd 
have  done  it  for  anyone.  But,  yes,  there  is  something 
I  want  in  return." 

"  Out  with  it!  "  He  made  a  gesture  of  impatience 
as  she  paused,  her  eyes  narrowed  in  thoughtfulness. 

"  Your  friendship,"  she  said,  and  there  was  a  queer 
little  break  in  her  voice  like  laughter  and  tears 
blended. 

For  once  words  would  riot  come  to  Joshua  Barton. 
He  could  only  stare  in  dumbfounded  silence. 

"  This  —  this,"  she  groped  an  instant,  then  went  on 
quickly,  "  this  feud  has  lasted  long  enough,  don't  you 
think  ?  I  do,  and  I  want  to  do  everything  that's  in  my 
power  to  make  up  — " 

"  What's  this  ?  Some  new  trick  ?  "  was  suddenly 
snarled  at  her.  Joshua  Barton  had  recovered  himself. 
"  My  friendship  ?  I  haven't  such  a  thing.  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  friendship.  It's  all  self,  self,  self,  in 
this  world.  Come,  what  is  it  you  want  under  the  pre- 
text of  friendship  ?  Another  month  here  —  ?  " 

It  was  Christine  who  interrupted  this  time. 

"  We  move  to-morrow,  Mr.  Barton."  She  stopped 
and  her  lip  quivered.  Then  she  went  on  quietly,  "  I 
never  understood  until  last  night  why  you  hated  us. 
I  do  now.  Mother  wrote  it  out  for  me  in  her  diary, 
and  oh,  she  was  sorry  —  so  sorry,  for  you." 

Her  words  again  seemed  to  transfix  him.  He  raised 
bruised,  deep-sunken  eyes  that  told  so  plainly  of  his 
suffering,  but  did  not  speak.  He  seemed  to  be  apprais- 
ing her.  Steadily  she  met  his  regard.  At  last  he  said, 


278      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

and  there  was  a  subdued  passion  in  his  voice,  "Will 
you  say  that  again  ?  " 

Tremulously  Christine  repeated,  "  She  was,  oh,  so 
sorry  for  you."  After  a  moment  of  silence  she  added, 
"  She  hoped  I  could  in  some  way  make  it  up  to  you. 
And,  please,  won't  you  let  me  try  ?  " 

For  another  long,  endless  moment  he  fastened  his 
burning  gaze  upon  her.  It  was  as  if  he  were  trying 
to  plumb  her  very  soul.  Quietly  she  bore  the  fire  of 
his  scrutiny. 

"  You  mean  it.     But  it's  —  it's  incredible." 

Her  cheeks  were  aglow  and  her  eyes  shimmered 
with  quick,  high  excitement. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  isn't.  Don't  you  see,  mother  always 
felt  she  had  wronged  you,  because  she  broke  her  word 
to  you.  Of  course,  she  couldn't  help  it  —  father  was 
so  perfectly  wonderful  —  but,  anyhow,  she  passed  it 
on  to  me  to  be  good  to  you  an.d  all  that." 

The  sadness  that  is  bred  in  loneliness  suddenly  came 
upon  him  as  he  said,  half  aloud,  "  After  all  these 
years." 

Acutely  attentive  to  every  tone  of  his  voice,  Chris- 
tine was  quick  to  comprehend  the  softened  mood,  and 
equally  quick  to  press  home  the  advantage.  "  It's  a 
pretty  big  debt  after  all  these  years,  but  Laurie  and  the 
twins  can  help,  too." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  not  to  include  the 
twins  in  the  bargain,"  retorted  Joshua  Barton  with 
grim  humor.  "  I  rather  fancy  I'd  not  enjoy  their 
efforts." 

.  "  But  it  is  a  bargain,"  Christine  persisted  and  ex- 
haled in  an  abandon  of  relief,  "  and  you'll  let  Laurie 
do  his  part  ?  " 


A  DIARY  279 

"  Some  people  might  say  he'd  already  done  his 
part,"  was  the  enigmatical  reply. 

She  looked  at  him  quickly,  her  eyes  widening  with 
surprise.  "What — "  She  checked  herself  sud- 
denly, then  harked  back  to  her  topic.  "  Shall  we 
shake  hands  on  the  bargain?  " 

"  It's  time  for  my  nap,"  he  snapped  at  her,  with  a 
quick  return  of  his  old  impatience.  "  Send  that 
blockhead  Mark  in  at  once." 

She  had  already  closed  the  door  behind  her  when 
he  called  her  back. 

"  I  can't  stir  for  a  month,  Marsh  says.  Don't  move 
till  I  tell  you  to." 

"  But  we're  all  ready  — " 

"I'm  not,"  he  thundered  at  her;  "would  you  turn 
me  out  in  the  street?" 

"No,  but—" 

"But  what?" 

"  You  told  us  to  be  out  of  your  house  by  Saturday." 

"  Humph !  Well,  now  I  tell  you  to  stay  in  your 
house  as  long  as  you  like." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ST.  MARK'S  FUND 

All  that  day  and  the  next  there  was  a  battle  royal 
between  Trevor  pride  and  Barton  will,  and  in  the  end 
Trevor  pride  lost,  or,  at  least,  was  forced  to  beat  a 
retreat.  Everyone  in  Christine's  small  world  —  Dr. 
Denton,  Dr.  Marsh,  Laurie,  Amelia  —  was  speedily 
ranged  on  Joshua  Barton's  side.  To  move  was  out 
of  the  question  for  him  in  his  present  state,  and  for 
Laurie,  too,  the  upheaval  would  be  anything  but  bene- 
ficial. 

"  But  we're  all  ready  to  move ;  besides,  we've  paid 
a  month's  rent,"  Christine  advanced  as  a  last  argu- 
ment to  Dr.  Denton. 

He  laughed,  a  delightful,  boyish  laugh.  "  Amelia 
and  Misery'll  enjoy  nothing  so  much  in  the  world  as 
to  put  things  in  order  again.  And  I  rather  fancy 
those  lovers  Graves  was  telling  me  about  —  that  office 
man  and  his  fiancee  who  were  so  desperately  in  love 
with  that  bungalow  —  would  rather  enjoy  occupying 
it  until — "  He  paused  significantly. 

"  Until,"  repeated  Christine,  who  couldn't  resist  the 
last  word,  "  Joshua  Barton's  better  and  we  can  live 
for  ourselves." 

But  days  and  weeks  slipped  by,  and  Joshua  Barton 
was  no  better.  At  least,  he  declared  he  was  not.  Dr. 
Marsh  did  not  agree  with  him,  and  Mark  openly  voiced 

280 


ST.  MARK'S  FUND  281 

his  opinion  on  that  subject  several  times  to  Amelia. 

"  Heaven  bless  you,"  he  burst  out,  coming  into  the 
living-room  late  one  morning,  "  but  he's  possessed 
to-day.  Third  time  I've  fixed  his  lunch-tray,  and  it 
don't  suit  yet.  I  know  what  he  wants." 

Amelia  glanced  up  from  her  never-ending  task  of 
darning  small  socks.  Her  shrewd  old  eyes  were  twin- 
kling behind  her  spectacles.  "  So  do  I.  But  she  isn't 
here.  She's  havin'  her  dancing-lesson  this  mornin' 
'stead  of  this  afternoon." 

"  Queer  thing,"  mused  the  man,  "  how  different  he 
is  when  she  comes  in  the  room.  He  just  eats  her  up 
with  his  eyes,  and  no  matter  how  he  roars  at  her  and 
fights  with  her,  she  only  laughs.  She  sure  knows  how 
to  take  him.  He's  a  changed  man,  I'm  telling  you, 
Mrs.  Amelia,  not  but  what  he's  got  a  long  way  to  go 
yet  before  he's  made  over  into  pure  angel,  him  with 
that  temper  and  that  tongue."  Mark  paused.  He 
was  not  given  to  long  speeches,  but  this  morning  he 
apparently  needed  to  unburden  himself. 

After  a  moment  he  went  on,  "  And  it's  my  private 
opinion,  Mrs.  Amelia  " —  he  glanced  cautiously  about 
and  discreetly  lowered^  his  voice — "it's  my  private 
opinion,  for  your  ear  alone,  Mrs.  Amelia,  he's  never 
going  to  get  well  enough  to  be  moved  from  here." 

Oddly  enough,  Amelia  did  not  seem  in  the  least  dis- 
concerted by  this  piece  of  news.  "  He  ain't  in  my 
way,  I'm  sure,  and  his  board-money  pays  the  rent 
Christine  was  bound  we  owed  him  and  leaves  some- 
thin'  over."  The  old  woman  rocked  contentedly,  as 
she  rolled  up  the  mended  socks  and  stowed  the  ball 
away  in  her  basket. 

"  Miss  Christine's  a  proud  'un,  all  right     I  was  in. 


282      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

the  next  room  and  couldn't  help  overhearing  her  say, 
'  You  can't  give  me  this  house.  We're  going  to  pay 
you  rent  as  long  as  we  live  here,'  and  the  old  man 
chuckled-like  —  think  of  him  chuckling  —  and  said, 
'  Well,  Missie,  you  won't  object  to  my  paying  my 
way,'  and  of  course  she  couldn't  object.  I  tell  you, 
Mrs.  Amelia,  it  beats  the  Dutch  the  way  that  slip  of  a 
girl  has  made  friends  with  him." 

The  rocking  suddenly  stopped.  "  You  appear  to 
think  it's  Miss  Christine  who's  worked  the  change. 
She's  done  wonders.  Give  credit,  where  credit's  due, 
says  I,  but  I'm  rather  thinkin'  my  boy's  had  a  hand 
in  it,  too.  Did  you  ever  see  a  more  contented  pair 
than  that  old  man  and  my  Laurie  when  they're  to- 
gether?" 

"  It's  queer,  it's  more  than  passing  queer,"  admitted 
Mark,  "  how  he's  taken  to  that  boy  when  the  very 
sight  of  him  used  to  send  him  into  a  fit  of  rage,  and 
when  he  played  that  fiddle — "  His  hands  went  out 
in  an  expressive  gesture.  "  Anyhow,"  he  wound  up 
with  the  air  of  one  who  has  reached  an  unalterable 
decision,  "  Joshua  Barton's  a  different  man,  and  our 
Miss  Christine's  had  a  hand  in  it.  Mr.  Douglas 
wouldn't  know  him  now." 

"  Doug  wouldn't  know  him  now."  A  voice  in  the 
back  of  Christine's  mind  reiterated  Mark's  words  one 
August  afternoon.  She  was  standing  in  the  doorway 
of  what  had  been  her  bedroom  until  the  night  of  the 
fire.  Mr.  Barton  was  in  bed,  but  in  a  sitting  position. 
His  face  was  still  haggard  and  drawn  as  from  pain, 
but  his  eyes  held  a  softer  light  and  his  lips  were  no 
longer  hard  and  grim.  They  had  begun  to  learn  the 
trick  of  smiling.  Eyes  and  lips  were  dreamily  smil- 


ST.  MARK'S  FUND  283 

ing  now  at  the  boy  who  in  a  chair  drawn  close  to  the 
bedside  was  placing  an  exquisite  barcarolle. 

The  girl  in  the  doorway,  unheard,  unseen,  scarcely 
breathed  lest  she  should  break  the  spell.  She  wished 
she  could  paint  that  picture,  the  old  man  in  the  rapt, 
listening  attitude,  the  boyish  player  with  the  illumined 
face  which  still  showed  an  undercurrent  of  melan- 
choly, the  room  a  pool  of  sunlight,  and  filled  with  the 
drowsy,  sweet  scent  of  late  roses  a-blow.  A  sudden 
pain  gripped  her  and  a  lump  knotted  her  throat.  If 
only  her  mother  could  be  with  her  now  to  see  with  her 
very  own  eyes  — 

"  That  was  the  barcarolle  father  always  loved," 
Laurie's  voice  broke  the  stillness  that  followed  the  last 
note.  "  I  believe  I  worked  harder  on  that  than  on 
anything  else  in  my  life.  Don't  you  remember  I  was 
telling  you  about  how  discouraged  I  felt?  I  guess  it 
was  in  the  very  first  letter."  The  boy  gave  the  old 
man  a  sudden,  brilliant  smile  that  lit  up  the  somber 
eyes  and  mournful  young  face. 

"  Remember !  I  haven't  forgotten  a  word.  It 
came  as  rather  a  surprise,  you  know,  your  offer  to 
adopt  me  because  Wrinkles  was  gone  and  I  must  be 
rather  lonely."  The  harsh  voice  rumbled  on,  but 
Christine  heard  no  more,  at  least  for  a  few  moments. 
She  was  busily  thinking.  The  first  letter  Laurie  had 
written  him.  Her  thoughts  raced  after  this  new  scent. 
Suddenly  several  small  incidents  spread  over  the  last 
few  weeks  linked  themselves  together  and  in  a  flash  of 
comprehension  she  knew.  Laurie  had  posted  a  daily 
letter  brimming  over  with  friendly  message  for  his 
lonely  next-door  neighbor. 

"  This  is  that  Chopin  valse  I  was  trying  to  remem- 


284      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

ber  yesterday,"  she  heard  Laurie  say,  as  again  he 
tucked  his  bow  under  his  chin,  and  now  a  glorious 
harmony  was  flooding  the  air.  When  the  last  faint 
tremor  of  sound  was  gone,  Mr.  Barton  suddenly 
snapped  out,  "  No  more  to-day.  You've  tired  me  all 
out." 

Laurie  smiled.  His  fine  senses  had  long  ago 
gauged  the  man,  and  he  knew  that  a  display  of  tem- 
per was  his  safety-valve  for  emotion.  So  lovingly  he 
encased  his  violin,  and  quietly  remarked,  "  It's  time 
for  your  nap,  Uncle  Barty.  I'll  send  Mark  to  you." 

"Why  doesn't  he  come  of  himself?  He's  neglect- 
ing me  shamefully  these  days.  I'll  fire  him  yet,  if  he 
isn't  mighty  careful." 

Again  Laurie  smiled  and  the  eavesdropper  smiled, 
too.  Already  this  was  a  familiar  threat,  and  Mark  in 
his  many  years  of  service  had  learned  to  appreciate  it 
for  what  it  was  worth. 

Laurie  was  reaching  for  his  crutches,  and  Christine 
had  taken  a  step  or  two  into  the  room  to  come  to  his 
assistance  when  a  remark  of  Mr.  Barton's  made  her 
withdraw  hastily.  "  Just  as  well  not  to  let  Christine 
know  of  those  letters,  Laurie.  It's  a  secret  between 
us  men,  you  understand.  She  —  she  might  hold  it  up 
against  me  for  trying  to  make  you  move  after  you'd 
gone  and  adopted  me;  and  I  don't  know  as  I'd  blame 
her  if  she  did.  It's  kind  of  hard,  though,  teaching  an 
old  dog  new  tricks." 

"  Douglas  would  have  the  surprise  of  his  young  life 
if  he  could  hear  his  uncle  now  with  his  very  own  ears," 
went  through  Christine's  mind  as  she  slipped  into  the 
nursery.  "  Believe  me,  if  I  knew  his  whereabouts 
he'd  hear  from  me  muy  pronto" 


ST.  MARK'S  FUND  285 

A  moment  later,  emerging  casually  from  the  nurs- 
ery, she  came  upon  Laurie  just  outside  Mr.  Barton's 
door,  with  a  well-feigned  expression  of  surprise. 

"You  here?  Isn't  he  napping?"  she  looked  ques- 
tioningly  at  her  brother  with  a  nod  in  the  direction  of 
the  closed  door.  "  I  thought  — " 

But  what  she  thought  was  never  expressed  in  words, 
for  holding  himself  suspended  on  his  crutches,  Laurie 
had  fished  a  letter  out  of  his  pocket.  "  It's  from 
Doug.  He  wrote  me  a  bully  note,  too."  Enthusiasm 
suddenly  kindled  his  sensitive  features.  "  Say,  Chris, 
but  he's  made  a  whopper  of  a  mistake  about  his  uncle. 
He  may  be  sort  of  prickly  and  —  and  —  rough  on  the 
outside,  but  he's  a  winner  on  the  inside,  just  the 
same." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  absent-mindedly.  She  was  lean- 
ing against  the  wall,  her  eyes  fairly  leaping  over  the 
closely  written  pages. 

"  We  never  got  so  —  so  well  acquainted  as  this 
morning,"  the  boy  went  on  eagerly,  too  absorbed  in 
his  own  story  to  notice  his  sister's  lack  of  attention, 
"  and  somehow,  I  honestly  don't  know  how  it  came 
about,  but  there  I  was  telling  him  all  about  father  and 
St.  Mark's  fund  and—" 

"  Eh?  What?  "  demanded  Christine  suddenly,  giv- 
ing him  a  startled  look.  Now  she  wondered  if  her 
policy  of  reticence  had  been  wise.  She  had  told 
Laurie  very  little  of  their  mother's  story  beyond  the 
fact  that  Joshua  Barton  had  once  been  her  guardian, 
and  she  had  seriously  displeased  him  before  her  mar- 
riage. "  Did  he  —  was  he  —  what  did  he  say  ?  " 
She  was  rather  white  about  the  lips. 

"  He  didn't  say  much  at  first.     I  thought  he  hadn't 


286      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

been  listening.  His  eyes  looked  so  —  so  sort  of  far- 
away. Then  he  said  from  all  he'd  heard  it  hadn't 
been  father's  fault  at  all  —  just  a  stroke  of  bad  luck 
that  often  happens  to  the  best  of  men,  and  that  a  mis- 
erly old  fellow  was  to  blame.  He  didn't  tell  who  he 
was,  and  of  course  I  didn't  ask  him  —  but,"  Laurie's 
eyes  flashed  fire  and  his  hands  clenched  on  his  crutches, 
"  but  I'd  beat  him  up  if  -I  knew." 

"  Yes,  yes,  go  on !  "  she  cried  tensely. 

"  There  isn't  anything  else  to  tell  except  that  when 
father  saw  the  smash  was  coming,  he  went  to  this  — 
this  old  miser,  and  begged  for  a  loan  —  just  a  few 
days  would  have  been  enough,  but  he  —  he  wouldn't." 
Laurie's  voice  broke  in  spite  of  himself,  and  he  made 
for  his  own  room. 

Christine  stared  with  unseeing  eyes  at  the  closed 
door.  Her  heart  ached  for  the  boy's  suffering,  while 
a  fierce  resentment  flamed  up  again  toward  the  man 
who  had  caused  him  this  anguish.  Wretched  old 
miser!  If  she  could  only  hurt  him  half  as  hard  — 

A  thought  came  quick  and  sharp.  Joshua  Barton 
had  scourged  himself.  It  must  have  been  torture  to 
his  proud  spirit  to  make  that  confession,  covert  though 
it  was,  to  Laurie.  It  must  have  gone  hard  with  him, 
thus  to  abase  himself,  even  though  Laurie  didn't  un- 
derstand. The  resentment  was  gone.  A  quiver 
caught  her  lips.  He  was  a  lonely,  pain-stricken  old 
man  and  she  would  tell  Douglas  Barton  so.  He  was 
young,  with  the  whole  world  before  him.  His  imme- 
diate duty  was  to  look  after  his  uncle,  who  had  only 
him  to  depend  upon  for  comfort  and  cheer. 

And  that,  with  an  airy  unconcern  for  any  advice  to 


ST.  MARK'S  FUND  287 

the  contrary  that  she  had  given  the  young  man  before, 
was  the  burden  of  the  letter  she  wrote  that  afternoon. 

"  It's  perfectly  fine,  Doug,"  was  her  concluding  par- 
agraph, "  to  think  you're  having  such  wonderful  suc- 
cess. Be  sure  to  let  me  see  every  line  of  your  poems 
that  magazine  prints,  but  as  I've  said  before,  you  can 
write  just  as  well  here  in  Merrivale,  and,  besides,  your 
uncle  needs  you.  We've  adopted  him  as  our  Uncle 
Barty,  and  it  would  do  your  heart  good  to  hear  him 
and  Laurie  quarrel  over  the  way  a  barcarolle  or  a 
minuet  is  to  be  played  on  the  violin  —  oh,  he's  a  dif- 
ferent, different  man,  Doug,  that  is,  most  of  the  time. 
He  still  has  tantrums  when  the  twins  drop  in  uninvited 
for  a  visit,  but  most  times  he's  a  perfect  old  dear. 
Now  write  or,  better  yet,  telegraph  when  you'll  come, 
and  I'll  be  down  at  the  depot  in  my  aeroplane  to  meet 
you." 

The  gold  of  the  afternoon  was  already  fading  when 
Christine  went  zigzagging  across  the  lawn  after  post- 
ing her  letter  to  Douglas.  Suddenly  the  late  after- 
noon stillness  was  broken  by  a  loud  "  Hey,  there,  mis- 
ter," and  the  sound  of  running  feet. 

Christine  whirled  about  and  saw  Mark,  his  arms 
filled  with  parcels  which  his  master  had  sent  him  to 
the  city  to  purchase,  halted  by  a  boy  in  messenger's 
uniform.  Instantly  the  light  of  recognition  appeared 
in  her  eyes.  The  messenger  was  he  of  the  snub-nose 
and  freckled  face.  They  stood,  man  and  boy,  not  ten 
feet  from  where  she  was,  and  though  she  made  a  step 
or  two  in  the  direction  of  the  house,  curiosity  got  the 
better  of  her,  and  for  the  second  time  that  day  she 
played  the  part  of  eavesdropper.  The  conversation 


288      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

was  brief,  but  to  Christine,  at  least,  it  was  eminently 
illuminating.  It  gave  her  a  key  to  the  mystery  that 
she  had  failed  to  puzzle  out. 

"  Ain't  seen  ye  lately  at  the  office,  mister." 

"  No." 

"  No  more  presents  for  that  lame  Trevor  boy,  mis- 
ter?" 

"  No,  he's  better  again.  Besides,  Mr.  Barton's  liv- 
ing here  now  himself." 

"  Sort  of  miss  the  fun,  mister,  and  —  the  extra  kale. 
Oh,  thanks,  mister,  that  wasn't  no  hint,  but  say,  it'll 
come  in  mighty  handy  just  the  same.  'Night,  mister." 

Christine  stood  behind  a  great  tasseled  pine  until 
the  front  door  had  closed  over  Mark.  Out  of  the  full- 
ness of  the  moment  she  smiled  radiantly  to  herself. 

So  it  was  Joshua  Barton  who  had  played  the  part 
of  fairy  godmother  to  Laurie.  Would  wonders  never 
cease?  Those  letters  of  Laurie's  must  have  started 
the  thawing  process.  And,  now,  the  warm  sunshine 
of  the  Trevor  friendship  was  gradually  melting  all  the 
long  accumulated  snow  and  ice.  Who  knew  but  some 
day  Joshua  Barton  would  have  a  real,  honest-to-good- 
ness  heart  ? 

Then  her  vivid  young  fancy  painted  a  pleasant  pic- 
ture of  reconciliation  between  Joshua  Barton  and  his 
nephew,  and  she  wouldn't  have  been  Christine  Trevor 
if  she  hadn't  sketched  herself  in  as  the  central  figure 
smiling  benignly  on  both  men  whose  hands  she  had 
just  brought  together  in  a  vital  clasp. 

But  with  one  quick  stroke  her  sense  of  humor 
erased  the  pleasant  picture,  and  she  laughed  aloud. 
"  Same  old  center  of  the  universe,  aren't  you?  Well, 
anyhow,  it's  a  pretty  fine  universe,  after  all." 


ST.  MARK'S  FUND  289 

A  sudden  ecstasy  thrilled  the  girl  at  the  quiet  beauty 
of  the  drowsy  old  garden  in  the  calm  of  twilight, 
and  made  her  heart  leap  up.  The  sunset  glow  was 
slowly  fading  and  all  bird  song  was  hushed.  She 
caught  her  first  glimpse  of  the  moon,  newborn  and 
exquisitely  curved,  poised  over  the  tip  of  a  tall  pine. 
Then  her  eyes  moved  to  an  elrn  tree  of  lovely  shape, 
with  its  cloudy  boughs  lifted  to  the  unbroken  blue  of 
the  sky.  Her  response  to  the  thrill  at  her  heart  was 
instant  and  uncontrollable.  She  went  off  into  a  dance 
of  delight,  and  her  feet  interpreted  the  thoughts  that 
rose  within  her  of  music  and  gladness  and  the  intoxi- 
cating joy  of  being  alive. 

When  she  stopped,  the  thrill  at  her  heart  had  deep- 
ened, until  tears  wet  her  cheeks.  It  was  as  if  the 
beauty  of  the  outdoor  world  had  suddenly  stabbed 
her  wide  awake,  and  she  saw  into  the  still  fastness  of 
her  spirit.  An  aching  emotion  overpowered  her.  In 
a  clarified  moment  she  knew  that  she  was  winning 
happiness  not  in  self-seeking  nor  in  a  mad  pursuit  of 
pleasure,  but  in  the  full  breath  of  unselfishness,  in  an 
outpouring  of  self  for  others. 

For  the  next  day  or  two  Christine  was  unreasonably 
consumed  with  impatience.  To  be  sure,  Douglas 
couldn't  possibly  have  reached  Merrivale  in  that  brief 
interval  of  time,  but  he  could  have  wired  the  time  of 
arrival.  Every  peal  of  the  door-bell  sent  her  heart 
a-flutter  and  her  feet  flying  to  meet  a  telegraph  messen- 
ger. Then  two  or  three  more  days  lagged  by,  and 
still  no  word  from  the  absent  nephew.  Perhaps  he 
was  out  of  town  and  her  letter  was  still  unread.  Some 
editor  friend  might  have  invited  him  for  a  week-end, 
you  know.  A  genius  like  Douglas  would  surely  be 


290      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

besieged  with  invitations  from  editors  anxious  to  con- 
tract for  his  whole  output. 

Well,  any  moment  now,  she  might  expect  a  wire  or 
at  least  a  special  letter  or,  better  still,  the  young  man 
in  person. 

Her  thoughts  had  reverted  to  this  eagerly-antici- 
pated return  of  the  wanderer  late  one  afternoon  when 
she  swung  herself  lithely  off  the  suburban  car.  Some- 
how, Douglas  had  been  uppermost  in  her  mind 
throughout  her  dancing-lesson,  and  during  the  tedious 
trolley  ride  she  had  allowed  him  so  to  occupy  her 
thoughts  that  she  was  fully  convinced  his  boyish,  un- 
dersized figure  would  spring  out  at  her  from  behind 
some  tree  or  bush  on  the  Trevor  grounds,  or  would  be 
lurking  back  of  a  veranda  pillar  to  pounce  upon  her 
with  an  air-ripping  shout. 

A  small  undersized  figure  did  rise  from  a  chair  in 
the  far  corner  of  the  veranda,  and  move  toward  her 
as  she  sped  up  the  steps.  But  the  figure  advanced, 
not  with  boyish  energy  and  elasticity,  but  with  the 
measured  tread  of  age. 

"  I  phoned  in  early  this  afternoon,  Miss  Christine," 
Mr.  Graves'  slow  monotone,  not  Douglas'  eager  stam- 
mer, greeted  her,  "  and  Amelia  informed  me  you'd  be 
home  for  dinner,  so  I  dropped  in  after  office  hours. 
I've  a  bit  of  pleasant  news  for  you."  He  made  that 
familiar  dry,  crackling  sound  with  his  hands.  "  It's 
pleasant  to  be  the  bearer  of  good  news,  Miss  Chris- 
tine," he  said,  directing  towards  her  his  slow  smile. 

Though  fired  with  *  impatience,  she  said  nothing. 
She  knew  Mr.  Graves  of  old.  He  was  slow-moving, 
deliberate,  a  detail  man.  Nothing  could  hurry  him. 


ST.  MARK'S  FUND  291 

-  "  It  all  came  about  in  a  most  mysterious  fashion," 
he  said,  after  an  impressive  moment  of  silence,  "  and 
I  am  at  liberty  to  reveal  only  a  part  of  the  facts  to 
you."  Again  he  paused,  and  this  time  the  silence  en- 
dured so  long  that  Christine  longed  to  shake  the  little 
man  into  speech.  At  the  precise  instant  that  she  had 
reached  the  decision  that  she  should  scream  if  the  si- 
lence was  maintained  another  heart-beat,  he  spoke, 

"  Arrangements  were  made  this  morning  for  re- 
establishing St.  Mark's  fund  on  a  solid  financial  basis 
and—" 

"  How  perfectly  wonderful !  You  old  dear !  "  Mr. 
Graves  received  the  shock  of  his  life.  Christine  threw 
her  arms  about  him,  and  kissed  him  tempestuously. 
What  mattered  it  that  her  kiss  fell  on  the  end  of  his 
nose?  Suffice  it  that  Christine  had  kissed  him,  and 
it  took  several  moments  for  him  to  recover  sufficiently 
from  that  breath-taking  fact  to  continue, 

"  As  I  was  saying,  it  is  to  be  known  hereafter  as  the 
Laurence  Trevor  fund  and  to  be  maintained  — •" 

Here  he  proceeded  to  explain  minutely  various  busi- 
ness details  that  would  ensure  the  permanence  of  the 
fund  through  succeeding  generations,  but  Christine 
was  not  listening,  there  was  so  much  crowding  in  on 
her  at  once  to  be  thought  out. 

When  he  had  at  last  come  to  an  end,  "  Yes,"  she 
said,  in  that  level  tone  that  denotes  a  preoccupied  mind, 
and  for  a  full  half  minute  smiled  unseeingly  at  him 
with  her  eyes  very  big  and  dark  and  soft  just  then. 

George  Graves  went  to  his  last  rest  with  the  secret 
buried  in  his  heart  that  his  beloved  Miss  Christine's 
mind  had  been  completely  unbalanced,  for  the  mo- 


292      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

ment  at  least,  by  the  good  news  he  bore  her  that  day, 
for  otherwise  how  could  one  explain  her  queer  smile 
and  unintelligible  words :  "  The  old  boy's  got  a  real, 
honest-to-goodness  heart,  after  all." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  GEORGE  POTTSES*  GARDEN  FETE 

Early  one  morning  towards  the  end  of  August,  when 
already  a  brooding  oppression  of  heat  lay  upon  the 
city  like  a  mantle,  Christine,  cool  and  sweet  in  white 
from  her  pumps  to  her  wide  hat  with  the  floppy  brim, 
was  making  her  way  through  the  blazing,  crowded 
city  streets.  Despite  the  heat  of  the  past  weeks  she 
had  not  missed  a  single  dancing-lesson.  The  Profes- 
sor had  assured  her  that  with  early  fall  there  would 
be  an  opening  for  her  with  an  old-time  manager-friend 
of  his  if  she  were  ready,  and  Christine  had  figuratively 
set  her  teeth  in  a  grim  resolve  to  be  ready. 

On  some  inexplicable  impulse  she  had  gone  two 
squares  out  of  her  way  this  hot  morning  to  pass  the 
Tremont  Club,  and  was  now  moving  slowly  past,  her 
eyes  on  the  facade,  and  her  mind  busy  with  recollec- 
tions of  former  merry  times  lived  within  the  exclusive 
walls. 

An  opulent  gray  limousine  swept  round  the  corner, 
slackened  speed,  and  slanted  to  the  curb.  The  gray- 
clad  chauffeur  cast  open  the  door.  There  emerged  a 
stoutish,  over-elaborately  gowned  person  all  in  baby- 
blue.  While  Christine,  a  gleam  of  recognition  in  her 
eye,  was  casting  about  for  some  avenue  of  escape  Mrs. 
George  Potts  bore  down  upon  her  with  a  fashionable, 
high-heeled  teeter. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Christine.  You  keep  yourself  such 
293 


294      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

a  stranger  these  days  I  didn't  recognize  you," 
She  held  out  her  hands  effusively,  her  large  face 
wreathed  in  dimpling  smiles.  "  Beastly  bore,  isn't  it, 
havin'  that  drive  blocked  up,  and  makin'  us  poor 
women  walk  all  that  way  up  to  the  club  this  hot  day? 
'  What's  the  big  idea  ?  '  I  says  to  George  this  mornin' 
over  our  coffee  cups.  '  You  women  've  worn  out  the 
asphalt  scorchin'  so  often  to  the  club  for  your  mornin' 
bridge,  and  it's  got  to  be  done  over,  that's  the  big 
idea.'  *  Well,  then,  let  'em  choose  cooler  weather  or 
let  'em  do  it  at  night,'  says  I.  Late,  aren't  we  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Christine's  voice  was  sweet  but 
indescribably  remote.  "  I'm  not  going  to  the  club." 

"Of  course,  my  dear.  I  forgot  you're  still  not  goin' 
out,  but  my  head's  so  full  of  things  these  days  it's 
no  wonder  I  forget.  You  see,  we're  just  finishin'  up 
our  Roman,  no,  Greek,  gardens,  and  we're  celebratin' 
with  a  perfectly  huge  garden  party,  and  what  do  you 
think?"  In  her  exuberance  Mrs.  Potts  seized  Chris- 
tine by  the  wrists  and  held  the  unwilling  captive  in  a 
moist  grip  while  she  babbled  on,  "  I'm  so  excited  I 
can't  keep  from  tellin'  it  to  somebody,  and  of  course 
it's  perfectly  safe  with  you."  With  a  glance  over  her 
shoulder  to  make  sure  she  would  not  be  overheard,  "  I 
had  a  note  acceptin'  this  morning.  You'll  never  guess 
who  from  ?  Carlina,  and  this  time  " —  she  gave  Chris- 
tine a  playful  nudge  with  her  elbow  — "  she  isn't  goin' 
to  back  out.  Believe  me,  I've  made  it  worth  her  while 
to  show  up,  but  I'm  not  tellin'  anybody  yet;  I'm  kind 
of  superstitious,  you  see  —  sort  of  afraid  it'll  queer 
the  whole  thing  if  I  brag,  so  George  says,  '  Why  not 
keep  the  whole  shootin' -match  a  dead  secret  from  the 
bunch,'  and  that's  what  I'm  goin'  to  do.  Ta-ta,  dear. 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  295 

Oh,  I  say,  I  do  wish  you'd  come.  It's  high  time  you 
were  goin'  out  again  and  the  crowd'll  all  give  you  the 
glad  hand." 

Christine's  hands  came  together  in  a  pretty  eager- 
ness. "  I'd  love  to  see  Carlina  dance  —  but  no,  thank 
you,  it  isn't  possible.  I  —  I  can't  come." 

That  was  Monday.  Saturday  morning  to  Chris- 
tine's surprise  Carlina  crept  softly  in  during  her  danc- 
ing-lesson, and  with  an  imperious  wave  of  the  hand 
motioned  the  girl  not  to  break  off.  Christine  could 
feel  she  was  regarding  her  intently  through  her  low- 
ered eyelashes,  though  she  seated  herself  at  once  in  a 
far  corner  of  the  room  and  to  all  appearances  was  soon 
lost  in  a  book. 

When  the  last  tremor  of  sound  had  died  away  under 
the  Professor's  fingers  and  Christine's  feet  were  still, 
Carlina  lifted  her  lithe,  long,  elusively  charming  body 
from  the  depths  of  the  chair,  and  came  towards  the 
girl. 

"  You  have  learned  much,  ma  cherie,"  she  said,  with 
her  pretty  foreign  intonation,  "  here."  Her  hand  flut- 
tered toward  her  heart.  "  It  has  made  you  dance  — 
oh  —  so  —  so  not  like  the  last  time,"  she  added,  with 
a  hint  of  impatience  because  the  right  words  would  not 
come.  "  Then  you  danced  like  a  young  girl,  light, 
gay,  but  no  —  no  feeling.  Now  you  have  it,  more 
color,  depth  —  the  true  art." 

She  crossed  with  a  graceful  step  to  her  father's  side, 
and  for  a  few  moments  the  two  engaged  in  a  low- 
voiced  conversation  in  their  native  tongue.  Then  Car- 
lina moved  again  to  Christine,  who  was  standing  at 
the  window,  looking  out  into  the  dusty  street  blazing 
in  the  morning  sun. 


296      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"Ma  cherie."  Christine  turned  about.  A  tender 
expression  had  swept  into  the  white  mobile  face. 
"  You  did  much  for  me."  Her  fingers  fluttered  in- 
voluntarily to  the  brooch  at  her  throat.  "  I  can  never 
thank  you,  but  I  can  do  a  little,  little  something  for 
you.  I  had  it  in  my  mind  when  I  said  yes  to  that  — 
Mrs.  Potts."  Her  shoulders  shrugged  expressively 
over  the  name.  "She  offered  me — 'pouf,  much 
money,  as  if  I  dance  for  that  for  her  and  her  kind. 
But,  no,  I  said  to  myself,  I  shall  accept,  I  shall  dance 
once,  and  the  other  two  times  it  shall  be  my  little 
friend,  Christine  Trevor.  This  shall  be  her  one  big 
chance,  and  with  me  shall  come  Pavley,  that  great  im- 
pressario." 

"  Madame,"  Christine's  voice  was  a  sob  of  jubila- 
tion. "  You  can't  mean  it.  I  —  I  dance  with  you ! 
Oh,  I  can  never,  never  do  it." 

"  Instead  of  me,"  corrected  the  other  sweetly. 
"  And  you  will  dance  the  hearts  out  of  those  people 
there." 

"  But  " —  a  sudden  thought  careered  wildly  through 
Christine's  mind  — "  Mrs.  Potts  will  never  allow 
me—" 

Carlina  laughed  in  airiest  scorn.  "  She  shall  not 
know  —  only  what  I  tell  her.  She  will  be  so  de- 
lighted to  have  Carlina  she  will  let  her  come  under  any 
conditions,  and  to-morrow  when  I'm  back  again  in 
New  York  I  shall  write  her  my  doctor  lets  me  dance 
but  once  that  night,  but  I  bring  with  me  a  young 
dancer  who  will  one  day  set  the  world  on  fire,  who 
will  some  day,  who  knows,  take  —  Carlina' s  place." 

And  while  Christine's  blood  was  still  racing  to  this 
new,  bewildering  thought,  she  slipped  from  the  room. 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  297 

During  the  following  days,  though  the  mercury 
continued  to  climb,  Christine  gave  every  minute  of  her 
time  and  every  atom  of  her  strength  and  enthusiasm 
that  the  Professor  would  permit  to  the  business  of  pre- 
paring for  her  first  engagement.  She  must  not  disap- 
point Carlina  —  she  must  not  disappoint  herself. 

Naturally  enough  there  were  times  when  bitter 
doubts  assailed  her  as  to  her  success,  but  her  tempera- 
ment was  far  too  mercurial  to  allow  her  to  remain  long 
in  the  depths.  The  very  thought  of  her  first  appear- 
ance was  enough  to  send  the  blood  singing  through 
her  veins  and  to  make  her  heart  leap  tumultuously. 

There  were  times,  too,  when  she  felt  she  should 
burst  if  she  didn't  divulge  her  secret  to  some  one. 
But  the  Professor  and  Carlina  had  decided  it  would 
enhance  the  value  of  her  debut  tenfold  if  it  were  veiled 
in  mystery.  Once,  however,  it  happened  that  she 
yielded  to  temptation,  and  confided  in  her  guardian. 
He  had  come  upon  her  unawares  practising  in  the  twi- 
light in  the  living-room.  For  a  long  moment  he  stood 
in  the  doorway.  As  he  followed  her  light  graceful 
movements  he  suddenly  recalled  an  exquisite  dancing 
figure  on  a  Tanagra  vase  on  his  living-room  mantel. 
Involuntarily  he  sighed.  How  young  she  was !  How 
like  a  flaming  torch  of  thrilling  life  and  joy!  His  ex- 
perienced eye  noted  that  she  was  gowned  in  a  diaph- 
anous confection  of  silver-green  like  the  leaves  of  a 
young  poplar  in  spring,  and  above  the  green  her  cheeks 
were  deeply  pink  and  above  the  pink  were  the  gold- 
brown  of  her  eyes  and  the  shimmering  gold  of  her 
hair. 

Her  dance  ended  before  a  mirror.  "  You're  per- 
fectly wooden,  to-day,"  she  frowned  to  her  image. 


298      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  You'll  —  oh,  Docky,  how  —  how  you  startled  me ! 
I  thought  I  was  alone  —  I  thought  you  were  miles 
away,"  she  stammered  in  panicky  astonishment,  and 
blushed  like  a  child  caught  red-handed  in  mischief. 

"  I  was  out  this  way,"  he  took  her  extended  hands 
with  his  engaging  smile,  "  and  thought  I'd  pay  Laurie 
a  little  visit.  I  found  the  door  open  and  was  bold 
enough  to  walk  in,  and  my  boldness  was  rewarded  by 
a  glimpse  of  a  —  dress  rehearsal,  I  surmise." 

Their  eyes  met  and  they  laughed  together.  Then 
the  truth  came  pell-mell  from  her  lips.  "  It's  my  first 
real  dress  rehearsal,  Docky.  The  gown  was  deliv- 
ered ten  jiffs  ago  and  I  simply  couldn't  resist  —  oh  — " 
she  broke  off  and  her  color  grew  high. 

"  It's  too  late  to  stop  now,  Goldilocks.  Out  with 
the  rest  of  it." 

"  I'm  not  supposed  to  tell.  It's  a  deep,  dar-r-r-k 
secret.  I'm  a  dancer  with  a  wonderful  future  ahead 
of  me  —  so  far  it's  'way,  'way  in  the  dim  future  — 
that  Carlina's  bringing  for  the  Pottses'  garden  fete." 
She  threw  back  her  shoulders,  clasping  her  hands,  and 
unconsciously  took  on  an  attitude  of  defiance. 

A  minute  came  and  passed  before  he  spoke,  and  then 
it  was  more  to  himself  than  her.  "  So  it's  come.  I 
wish  I  could  have  prevented  it — "  He  crossed  the 
room  and  stood  at  the  window,  gazing  out  intently  at 
the  flower-beds  below.  Then  he  strode  back  to  her 
side  again.  "  When  is  it  to  be?  " 

"  Next  Tuesday." 

"  And  I'm  due  in  New  York  that  night." 

"  Oh,  Docky,  it  would  keep  me  from  being  so  pan- 
icky if  I  knew  you  —  I  mean  if  you  and  my  friends 
were  there.  It'll  be  heaps  worse  dancing  before  peo- 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  299 

pie  who  know  you  and  who'll  sit  there  goggle-eyed 
to  —  but  I'm  not  going  even  to  think  about  that.  Tell 
me,  don't  you  like  me  in  my  sitty-out  skirts  ?  " 

Slowly,  with  alluring  grace,  she  pirouetted  before 
him  on  silver-clad  toes.  For  a  moment  he  regarded 
her  gravely,  then  he  smiled  at  her  unexpectedly,  and 
as  always  his  smile  made  her  quiver  with  the  beating 
of  a  hundred  unexpected  pulses. 

"  You're  worth  coming  miles  to  see,  Goldilocks. 
I'll  be  there  if  I  have  to  stay  up  every  night  for  a  week 
to  finish  up.  But,"  he  said,  moving  a  bit  closer,  and 
scrutinizing  her  with  his  trained  eye,  "  remember, 
you're  not  to  tire  yourself  out  rehearsing  and  — " 

"  Bunk,"  she  interrupted,  inelegantly.  "  In  my 
bright  young  lexicon  there's  no  such  word  as  tired." 

But  the  strain  of  the  last  few  days  before  the  garden 
fete  was  beginning  to  tell  on  her  and  she  was  looking 
pale  and  thin  one  morning  when  she  dropped  into  a 
shoe-shop,  intent  upon  her  Sisyphus-like  task  of  keep- 
ing the  Trevor  twin  toes  in  shoes,  and  tilted  into  Mrs. 
Potts. 

"  You're  down  on  your  looks  a  bit,  my  dear,"  com- 
mented that  lady  vivaciously.  "  It's  this  beastly  heat, 
no  doubt.  Well,  I'm  not  feeling  extra  fit  myself,  and 
I  says  to  George  last  night  before  the  Country  Club 
dinner,  '  Wild  horses  couldn't  keep  me  in  town  an- 
other minute  after  that  garden  fete.'  No,  pink  satin  " 
—  this  to  the  patient  shoe-clerk  who  was  applying  his 
handkerchief  to  his  heated  forehead,  "  about  three 
shades  lighter  and  the  heels  ought  to  be  several  inches 
higher.  A  last  purchase,  my  dear,  for  my  niece  who's 
unexpectedly  passing  through  the  city  and  of  course 
she'll  stay  over  for  the  party.  The  poor  dear's  from 


300      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

the  country  —  tied  down  to  an  invalid  mother  —  no 
clothes  fit  to  speak  of  —  so  I'm  getting  her  all  kinds 
of  do-dads.  You  got  your  card,  of  course,"  beamed 
Mrs.  Potts,  in  the  interval  of  the  clerk's  search  for  a 
more  nearly  rose-tinted  pair  of  slippers,  "  Do  come, 
that's  a  dear." 

Christine  could  only  trust  herself  to  smile. 

"  It's  going  to  be  some  show,  George  says,  and," 
Mrs.  Potts  lowered  her  voice  to  a  half  whisper,  "  now 
everything's  set  I  don't  mind  telling  you  —  I  always 
did  have  a  soft  spot  in  my  heart  for  you,  Christine  — 
there's  going  to  be  a  sensation  that  night." 

Christine  flashed  her  a  startled  glance. 

But  Mrs.  Potts  continued  exultantly,  "  Not  one  star 
dancer,  but  two.  A  perfectly  new  wonder  —  first  ap- 
pearance—  greater  than  Carlina  herself,  I'm  told. 
Yes,  that  pair'll  do.  Have  them  sent  at  once."  And 
while  Mrs.  Potts  was  giving  her  undivided  attention 
to  the  patient  young  man,  Christine  resisting  a  wild 
desire  to  shriek  out  the  truth,  fled  incontinently  with- 
out making  her  purchases. 

Afterwards  she  often  wondered  how  she  lived 
through  that  last  day  of  the  much  advertised  event. 
For  weeks  now  the  society  sheets  and  newspapers  had 
devoted  important  space  to  a  full  description  of  every 
detail  of  the  Potts  estate  from  the  "  beautiful  little 
Greek  theatre  set  like  a  gem  in  its  exquisite  environs," 
to  the  fountain  presided  over  by  a  bronze  Pan.  Over 
the  pages  of  the  Sunday  supplement  had  been  spread 
views  of  the  new  Potts  gardens,  formal  and  sunken, 
with  huge  photographs  of  the  master  and  mistress 
thereof  together  with  a  three-column  account  of  the 
spectacular  garden  fete  which  was  to  be  the  theatre's 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  301 

formal  opening  to  the  Potts'  friends.  But  Mrs. 
Potts  had  been  true  to  her  word,  at  least  as  far  as 
newspaper  reports  had  gone.  There  had  been  only 
vaguest  hints,  mysterious  suggestions  as  to  the  form 
of  the  entertainment,  and  only  that  very  morning  the 
early  edition  had  given  another  two  columns  of  front- 
page space  to  an  account  of  the  final  preparations  for 
the  great  event,  with  the  concluding  statement  that  no 
details  of  the  nature  of  the  entertainment  that  was  in 
store  for  the  fortunate  guests  had  been  presented  for 
publication.  It  was  safe  to  assume,  however,  that  in 
a  programme  composed  of  only  world-famed  artists, 
Carlina,  the  great  danseuse,  would  top  the  list. 

What  would  the  reporters  say,  she  wondered,  if  they 
knew  that  she,  Christine  Trevor,  would  be  one  of  that 
number  of  "  world-famed  artists"  ?  She  was  to  dance 
twice  in  Carlina's  stead.  The  very  thought  made  her 
cheeks  and  lips  chalk-pale  and  set  her  to  moving  rest- 
lessly about  the  room. 

"  You're  nervous  as  a  witch  this  afternoon,"  com- 
plained Mr.  Barton,  when  Christine  was  making  one 
of  her  restless  pilgrimages  up  and  down  his  room. 
"  You're  pale  as  a  ghost,  too,"  he  added  with  concern. 
"  I  wish  you'd  behave  yourself,  Christine,"  he  snarled 
at  her  in  quick  anger,  "  and  not  work  yourself  to  the 
bone  with  that  ridiculous  notion  of  supporting  your 
family.  Why  in  Sam  Hill  can't  you  be  sensible  and 
let  me—  ?" 

She  stopped  her  fidgeting  about  to  press  gentle  fin- 
gers over  his  lips.  "  I've  let  you  already,  Uncle  Barty. 
You  know  perfectly  well,  you  old  dear,  I  never  could 
have  bought  those  dancing  frocks  for  to-night  but  for 
that  perfectly  huge  check  you  insisted  on  paying  me 


302      CHRISTINE  OF,  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

for  that  awful  caricature  I  made  of  you  the  day  you 
ordered  me  off  your  ground.  If  only  Daffy  had  kept 
her  naughty  fingers  out  of  my  sketch  book." 

"'Daffy  was  merely  trying  to  entertain  me  that  after- 
noon. Surely  a  man  has  a  right  to  set  a  price  on  his 
own  portrait,"  he  blustered.  "  Now,  not  another 
word  on  the  subject.  But  if  you'd  only  show  some 
sense  and  let  me  — " 

She  knelt  beside  him  and  her  arms  flashed  up  and 
around  his  neck.  "  You're  paying  now  three  times  as 
much  as  you  ought.  And  it  must  stop  somewhere. 
I'm  sorry  if  I've  got  on  your  nerves.  It's  the  weather, 
perhaps."  She  came  to  her  feet,  and  crossing  to  the 
window,  drew  the  shade  aside.  "  I'm  all  scrooged  up 
inside  this  afternoon,  but  I'm  going  to  that  wonderful 
garden  fete,  and  " —  she  faced  him  with  unconscious 
solemnity  — "  Uncle  Barty,  it's  going  to  be  the  most 
thrillsome  thrill  of  my  whole  life." 

Already  the  stars  were  gleaming  silvery  white  and 
a  great  radiant  moon  was  riding  in  the  heavens  when 
the  automobile  which  Carlina  had  provided  for  Chris- 
tine and  her  father  turned  in  between  white  gate-posts 
and  rounded  the  circular  drive  leading  to  the  white 
marble  palace  that  George  Potts  dubbed  his  shack. 
Eagerly  Christine  thrust  her  head  out  of  the  window 
for  her  first  glimpse  of  fairyland.  And  fairyland  it 
was,  silvered  by  the  moonlight  and  illumined  by  my- 
riads of  soft,  shaded  lights  strung  like  so  many  bub- 
bles everywhere. 

"  How  wonderful!  "  Christine's  eye  was  registering 
the  view  across  the  hedge-bordered  sunken  gardens  to 
the  white  marble  theatre  which  crowned  a  cinquefoil 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  303 

pool.  Through  a  driveway  bordered  with  luxuriant 
beds  of  larkspur,  yellow  day  lilies  with  their  heavy 
sweetness,  and  yellow  and  purple  phlox,  robbed  now 
of  all  color  by  the  moonlight,  they  approached  the 
formal  gardens  with  flashing  marble-rimmed  pools 
and  an  old-fashioned  green-hedged  grass  walk,  fram- 
ing a  regal  Ceres  silhouetted  against  the  sky  and  giv- 
ing dignity  to  the  garden. 

The  Pottses'  wealth  had  bought  an  exquisite  Par- 
rish  painting  quickened  to  life.  There  were  walks 
avenued  by  plane  trees  and  poplars,  rich  sweeps  of 
lawn  and  shrubbery,  a  fascinating  glimpse  of  a  little 
path  leading,  here  to  a  pool,  and  there  to  the  sunken 
garden,  or  to  a  fountain  beloved  of  birds,  and  encir- 
cled with  shy  heliotrope  and  roses'  riotous  bloom. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure  the  little  people  of  the  hills  will  come 
here  to  play  their  bagpipes  at  night,"  Christine  half 
whispered.  , 

And  the  Professor's  quick  fancy,  stirred  by  her 
words,  prompted  him  to  add,  "  It's  here  the  lepre- 
chauns will  come  to  hammer  the  fairy  shoes.  They've 
made  a  pair  for  you  to-night,  ma  cherie,"  he  added  in 
her  ear,  as  he  helped  her  out  of  the  car  and  up  the 
gleaming  marble  steps  of  the  little  theatre. 

The  next  hour  passed  like  a  dream  for  Christine  — 
the  donning  of  the  silver-green  gown  in  the  dressing- 
room,  aided  by  the  skilful  fingers  of  the  maid  in  at- 
tendance, and  the  latter's  low-voiced  cry  of  admira- 
tion, "  You  look  just  like  spring,  miss,"  the  arrival  of 
Carlina  when  already  the  guests  were  clamorous  with 
impatience,  and  at  last  the  performance  of  a  rarely 
lovely  little  masque  which  Christine  watched  with  a 


304      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

blurred  vision  from  a  corner  of  the  stage  behind  a 
heavy  drapery  of  cerulean  blue,  at  times  a  part  of  the 
backdrop. 

Then  came  her  moment,  the  moment  when  Carlina 
caught  her  passionately  to  herself,  kissed  her  on  either 
cheek,  and  eye  to  eye,  whispered,  "  Remember,  you  are 
dancing  in  place  of  Carlina." 

Christine's  heart  beat  violently  as  the  curtains  parted 
for  her,  and  even  as  her  feet  twinkled,  her  eyes  swam 
dizzily  at  the  blur  of  faces  upturned  to  hers.  But  the 
next  moment  she  was  blind  to  the  lights,  blind  to  the 
flowers  and  faces,  deaf  to  the  voices  that  rose  in  ex- 
cited babble  at  sight  of  her.  She  only  knew  that  the 
air  was  filled  with  the  swaying  sound  of  stringed  in- 
struments that  were  playing  upon  her  soul.  She  only 
knew  that  the  heavens  were  star-spangled  and  moon- 
vivid,  that  she  was  thrilling  with  youth  and  life  and 
joy,  and  she  had  to  express  it  all. 

And  as  she  danced,  they,  the  hard,  world-worn  men 
and  women,  cynical,  with  emotions  stifled  beneath  the 
shroud  of  conventionality  saw  it  all,  felt  it  all.  Their 
eyes  were  moist,  and  tears  even  lay  along  some  cheeks 
when  the  dance  was  done. 

"  Isn't  it  perfectly  absurd,"  whispered  one  time- 
hardened  society  empress  to  her  husband,  "  but  I  was 
seeing  myself  all  the  while  she  was  dancing  —  that 
May  night  in  the  apple-orchard,  my  hair  still  hanging 
in  braids,  and  the  moon  —  and  you  —  and  your  first 
kiss." 

"  My  prophetic  soul,"  he  whose  marital  transgres- 
sions had  been  legion  and  public  property  jolted  out, 
"  I  was  thinking  of  that,  too.  So,  that's  really  little 
Christine  Trevor  that  I  used  to  dandle  on  my  knee." 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  305 

He  blew  his  nose  sonorously,  "  I  wish  old  Jack  Trevor 
could  see  her  now.  Take  it  from  me,  Nell,  some  day 
she'll  give  Carlina  a  race  for  her  life  when — " 

"  Oh,  that's  the  great  Carlina  herself,"  interrupted 
his  wife  the  next  minute,  and  held  her  breath  as  the 
exquisite  creature  fluttered  like  some  great  tropical 
butterfly  through  the  parting  curtains. 

Christine,  too,  held  her  breath  as  Carlina  drifted  to 
the  front  of  the  stage,  as  though  wafted  by  perfume, 
and  like  thistle-down  blown  by  a  'soft  wind.  When 
she  danced,  a  light  came  into  the  girl's  eyes  and  her 
body  relaxed  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy.  At  times  she  fairly 
forgot  to  breathe.  She  had  the  feeling  that  she  was 
being  stripped  bare  of  artificialities,  and  that  her  soul 
was  emerging  triumphant  before  the  King  of  Glory. 
She  was  bewildered,  overwhelmed  with  a  genuine  real- 
ization of  the  beauty  of  life  and  art. 

Carlina  must  have  been  in  a  rare  mood  that  night, 
for  she  broke  her  ironclad  rule.  She  danced  an  en- 
core. At  the  end  Christine  found  herself  with  the 
hundreds  of  others  that  were  the  Pottses'  guests  on 
her  feet,  shouting,  applauding,  laughing,  crying  in  one 
breath. 

Christine's  face  was  still  illumined  as  if  from  some 
inner  source  when  she  danced  again.  This  time  she 
was  a  fluttering,  misty  apparition  in  rosy  flames. 
Every  trailing  ribbon,  every  enveloping  touch  of  tulle 
and  shadowy  lace  was  the  color  of  the  heart  of  roses 
and  her  cheeks  had  borrowed  the  self-same  hue. 

Before,  she  had  been  exquisite,  inexpressibly  lovely 
and  appealing.  Now  it  was  as  if  the  love  of  rhythmic 
motion  were  thrilling  through  her  very  blood,  now  it 
was  as  if  she  were  fired  with  that  great  emotional  ex- 


306      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

perience  which  lifts  up  the  gates  of  our  blindness  and 
which  brings  with  it  a  certain  wildness  and  madness 
of  joy.  The  dance  held  all  the  mystery  and  wonder- 
ful glowing  spirit  of  young  love.  It  was  delicate  as 
the  silky  threads  on  a  moth's  wing,  as  colorful  as  the 
hues  of  a  bubble. 

At  the  end  of  the  entertainment  she  had  to  face  the 
charge  of  the  enthusiastic  guests  and  for  the  next  half- 
hour  Carlina  and  she  received  like  two  princesses  royal. 
Old  friends  swarmed  upon  her  with  words  of  praise 
and  congratulations,  and  new  ones  were  made  on  the 
instant. 

"  Now  that  we've  found  this  gem  belongs  to  us, 
we're  going  to  hold  fast  to  her,"  said  old  Jonathan 
Gray,  he  who  held  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  railroads, 
banks  and  whole  lumbering  towns.  "  My  dear,  I  was 
always  proud  of  your  father's  friendship.  I'd  be  hon- 
ored by  yours." 

"  Being  my  father's  friend  makes  you  mine  on  the 
spot."  Christine's  face  was  warmly  flushed,  and  her 
eyes  were  welcoming  and  sweet. 

Her  greatest  triumph  came  when  Pavley,  a  giant  of 
a  man,  black  bearded  and  with  shrewd,  twinkling  eyes 
who  had  been  lingering  carelessly  for  some  time  about 
the  edge  of  the  throng,  of  a  sudden,  coolly,  without 
any  seeming  rudeness  —  it  was  as  if  it  was  his  privi- 
lege—  thrust  the  others  aside  and  stood  directly  be- 
fore her. 

On  the  instant  Carlina  broke  off  her  animated  con- 
versation with  a  young  compatriot  to  give  a  gracious 
hand  and  make  the  necessary  introductions. 

Pavley  smiled  down  from  his  great  height  at  the 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  307 

young  girl,  and  his  friendliness  brought  an  answering 
smile  to  her  lips. 

"  This  isn't  the  place  to  talk  shop,  Miss  Trevor," 
boomed  his  deep  voice.  "  Carlina  has  been  good 
enough  to  promise  she'd  bring  you  soon  to  me  in  New 
York,  but  I've  run  the  risk  of  missing  that  midnight 
train  to  tell  you  you've  broken  into  the  charmed  circle 
and  broken  in  hard.  Congratulations,  Miss  Trevor," 
and  he  bowed  low. 

The  girl  laughed,  and  her  laugh  held  a  little  silvery 
trill.  "  Everyone's  been  so  kind.  It's  been  a  per- 
fectly magical  night." 

But  even  as  she  spoke  she  was  conscious  of  a  flaw 
in  the  magic  of  the  night.  Docky  was  not  there.  Her 
eyes  had  searched  everywhere.  He  had  said  he'd  stay 
up  nights  to  get  through  and  see  her  dance.  He  had 
not  come.  This  thought  stuck  like  a  burr  to  her  con- 
sciousness. For  the  first  time  he  had  broken  faith 
with  her. 

"  Well,  Chris,  aren't  you  soon  coming  down  to 
earth?"  a  familiar  voice  rose  above  the  babble  of 
sound,  and  her  heart  stood  still,  then  gave  a  queer 
leap. 

She  was  looking  into  the  bright  black  eyes  of  Cort- 
land  Van  Ness. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  here."  The  words  came 
slowly  from  her  lips  quite  without  her  own  volition. 

He  edged  closer,  then  whispered  with  a  half-laugh, 
"  That's  not  my  fault,  I'm  sure.  I  told  you  the  glad 
news  in  at  least  a  dozen  letters,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
cable." 

"  I  didn't  read  the  letters,"  was  her  quiet  answer. 


308     CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  The  cable  never  reached  me."  She  had  herself  well 
in  hand  now. 

"  Come."  He  seized  her  arm  with  the  old  master- 
fulness, and  drew  her  along.  "  Let's  get  out  of  this 
bally  old  crowd.  They've  had  you  long  enough.  It's 
my  innin'  now." 

He  led  her  to  an  Italian  marble  bench  gleaming 
white  in  the  moonlight,  and  cunningly  set  between  two 
dwarf  pines  near  a  pool  in  which  a  bronze  water-god 
raised  his  head  above  lily  pads. 

"  Everybody's  headed  for  the  eats,"  he  said,  eyeing 
her  avidly  as  she  slipped  from  his  hands  and  sat  down 
on  the  marble  bench,  "  so  I  suppose  I  can  have  you  all 
to  myself  for  at  least  five  minutes.  Holy  Doodle,  but 
I  thought  I'd  never  get  you,  Chris !  "  He  dropped 
down  on  the  bench  beside  her  and  crushed  her  body 
against  him  in  sudden  passion. 

"Cort!"  She  rose,  panting,  and  faced  him,  pale, 
resolute,  every  feature  clearly  outlined  in  the  moon- 
light. "  I  won't  have  it.  It's  all  over.  You  got  my 
letter." 

"Yes,  but  what  of  that?"  he  answered  a  bit  con- 
temptuously. "  That  was  weeks  ago.  You've  had 
plenty  of  time  to  come  to  your  senses  since  then." 

"  I  had  already  come  to  my  senses  when  I  wrote 
you." 

He  made  a  move  to  take  her  in  his  arms  again,  but 
she  fended  him  off. 

Her  shoulders  straight,  her  head  high,  she  gazed  at 
him.  "  I've  nothing  more  to  say.  Will  you  please 
take  me  back  to  the  others  ?  " 

"  Well,  I've  plenty  to  say,"  he  blazed  at  her,  "  and 
you'll  stay  here  till  I'm  through." 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  309 

Coolly  she  seated  herself  on  the  bench  again.  For  a 
moment  or  two  he  strode  up  and  down  the  turf,  snap- 
ping his  ringers  behind  him.  Then  he  stood  before 
her,  his  handsome,  gypsy-like  face  wearing  an  unex- 
pected pleading  expression. 

"  Don't  be  hard  on  a  fellow,  Chris.  It's  nothing 
unusual.  They  all  do  it.  Why,  there  isn't  a  one  in 
our  set  — " 

She  cut  him  off  with  an  imperious  gesture.  For  a 
moment  the  silence  was  unbroken.  Her  eyes  were 
upon  the  fan-like  spray  of  the  fountain,  sparkling  like 
so  many  jewels  in  the  soft-colored  light  that  cun- 
ningly hidden  bulbs  irradiated.  But  her  thoughts 
were  far  away.  In  fancy  she  was  again  reading  a 
little  misspelled  note  from  Jennie  that  had  gladdened 
her  heart  a  day  or  two  before. 

"  I've  gained  three  pounds  already,"  Jennie  had 
written,  "  and  little  Bobby  has  put  on  seven  ounces, 
and  we're  both  laughing  from  morning  till  night,  and 
it's  all  because  of  you,  you  dear,  brown-eyed  angel." 

"  Well,"  he  broke  in  upon  her  musing  at  last  with 
ill-concealed  impatience,  "  what's  all  this  deep  study 
about?"  As  she  made  no  answer,  he  flung  himself 
on  the  bench  beside  her,  and  seized  both  her  hands. 
"  Now  see  here,  Chris,"  he  went  on,  with  a  quick  re- 
version to  his  old  masterful  manner,  "  we've  had  just 
about  enough  of  this  nonsense.  I'll  give  you  two  or 
three  weeks  to  get  ready  —  not  that  I'd  care  if  you 
didn't  have  a  new  rag.  It's  you  I  want  — *but  you 
women  are  different  " —  he  smiled  into  her  eyes  with 
the  old  alluring  audacity  that  before  had  always  bent 
her  will  to  his  — "  and  we'll  blow  off  the  great  event 
in  the  middle  of  September.  What  you  say,  little 


3io      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

one  ?  "  As  the  silence  was  maintained,  he  thought  he 
saw  his  advantage  and  seized  it.  "  I've  already  or- 
dered the  diamonds  reset."  He  encircled  her  slim 
waist  and  drew  her  head  to  his  shoulder. 

"  Cort ! "     She  freed  herself  and  rose  to  her  feet. 

He  rose  too. 

"  Cort,"  she  began  again,  then  stopped.  "  Oh,  why 
won't  you  understand?  It  just  can't  be." 

He  stared  at  her  fixedly,  his  eyebrows  arched  in 
incredulity.  "  You're  spoofin'.  You  don't  mean  it, 
Chris." 

"  I  do.     I  do." 

"  You  can't  mean  you're  throwin'  me  aside  just 
because  of  that  pig  of  a  Jennie  Chubb.  She  isn't 
worth  a  —  a  hair  of  your  head." 

"  She's  a  girl,  the  same  as  I  am.  She  —  but  please 
don't  let's  go  into  that.  It's  —  it's  so  humiliating." 

He  tried  another  tack.  "  You  haven't  only  your- 
self to  think  of  in  this  matter,  dear.  There's  Laurie 
—  I'll  do  the  right  thing  by  him.  I  heard  of  a  peach 
of  a  sanatorium — " 

"Cort," — the  quiet  scorn  of  her  voice  stung  him 
like  a  whip-lash  — "  have  I  fallen  as  low  as  that  in 
your  mind  ?  Have  —  ?  " 

"  Low  nothing,"  he  jerked  out  hotly.  "  What's  the 
use  of  beatin'  about  the  bush?  I  can  take  care  of 
you  the  way  you've  been  used  to,  the  way  Christine 
Trevor  ought  to  be." 

"  I'm  going  to  take  care  of  myself."  The  memory 
of  Pavley's  words  brought  a  quick  glint  of  pride  to 
her  eyes. 

"  How  ?  This  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  contemptuous 
wave  of  his  hand  toward  the  small  theatre  gleaming 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  311 

cold  and  white  in  the  moonlight.  "  That's  all  right 
for  a  fashionable  fad,  but  the  chorus-girl  business? 
You'd  walk  off  a  bridge  some  dark  night  rather  — 
Oh,  Chris!"  He  caught  up  her  hands  suddenly  and 
held  them  against  his  heart.  "  You  don't  know 
what  you'd  run  up  against  with  this  crazy  dancin' 
idea.  I  do.  Good  Lord!  I  do.  I  know  it  from 
A  to  Z,  and  I  tell  you  it's  rotten,  rotten  — 

"  Please  let  me  go,  Cort  My  mind's  made  up.  If 
you  won't  take  me  back  to  the  others,  I'll  have  to  go 
alone."  Her  lips  were  pale  and  quivering,  and  the 
soft  laces  on  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  over  the  tumult 
beneath.  Gathering  the  foam  of  her  skirts  about  her, 
she  turned  and  slipped  away. 

In  a  bound  he  reached  her.  His  chin  was  thrust 
forward,  and  his  black  eyes  had  focused  in  a  cold, 
level  stare  as  he  swung  her  about. 

"What's  his  name?"  He  spoke  as  if  this  were  a 
new  thought. 

For  a  moment  she  positively  gaped  at  him,  then  as 
his  meaning  became  clear,  color  swept  into  her  face, 
and  she  caught  her  lower  lip  between  her  teeth. 

"Come,  who  is  he?  Do  I  know  him?  Who  did 
you  jilt  me  for?"  He  had  given  way  so  completely 
to  a  passion  of  jealousy  that  he  choked  and  stam- 
mered and  trembled  in  every  limb.  His  burning  eyes 
fairly  devoured  her.  Never  had  she  seemed  so  beau- 
tiful, so  desirable.  It  was  as  if  he  were  seeing  her 
for  the  first  time  or  with  new  eyes.  He  noted  the 
smooth,  gleaming  gold  of  her  hair,  the  delicately  lovely 
features  and  the  eyes  that  he  well  knew  by  daylight 
were  like  brown  velvet  shot  with  gold  —  now  they 
were  wide  and  dark  as  the  night  —  the  delicate  de- 


3i2      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

pression  below  her  throat,  the  finely  molded  bosom, 
the  crisp  round  shoulders  and  the  slim  body  clouded 
in  a  rose-mist. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  demanded,  gripping  her  wrists. 

"  You're  hurting  me,"  she  answered,  quietly. 
"  There's  nothing  to  tell.  I'm  going  to  dance  for  my 
living." 

Suddenly  he  flung  self-restraint  to  the  winds.  A 
wave  of  fury  swept  over  him,  and  catching  her  shoul- 
ders, he  swung  her  about  and  crushed  her  body  against 
him.  Then  though  she  beat  him  off  with  her  fists,  he 
kissed  her  —  eyes,  hair,  lips,  throat.  His  hot  kisses 
rained  upon  her  and  scorched  her.  Suddenly  he  re- 
leased her,  spent,  breathless,  too  overcome  for  tears. 
"  Now,"  he  said  triumphantly,  mistaking  her  silence 
for  yielding,  "  now  you  know  you're  mine  —  mine. 
We'll  get  married  to-morrow  — " 

She  took  a  hurried  step  away  from  him,  then  turned, 
lightly  poised  like  a  winged  spirit.  "  I'll  not  marry 
you  to-morrow  or  ever,  Cort." 

"  You'll  marry  me  —  to-night,"  he  shouted,  in  sud- 
den passion.  "  We'll  drive  over  the  river  — " 

"  No,  no.     Please  let  me  go.     Please,  please,  Cort." 

"  My  car's  right  here  in  the  bend  of  the  road,  angel 
girl,  and  before  you  know  it — " 

"  I've  come  for  you,  Christine,"  said  a  quiet  voice 
behind  them.  "Are  you  ready?"  And  Christine, 
whirling  about,  threw  herself,  sobbing  like  a  child, 
into  Dr.  Denton's  arms. 

The  drive  home  was  swift;  for  the  most  part,  silent. 

"  I  was  in  time  for  only  your  last  dance,"  Dr.  Den- 
ton  said,  as  he  helped  her  into  the  car.  "  You  made 
me  very  proud  of  you,  Goldilocks." 


THE  GARDEN  FETE  313 

And  when  the  car  swung  into  the  river  road  Dr. 
Denton  spoke  again.  "Very  tired,  little  one?" 

"  No,  Docky,"  was  the  girl's  whispered  answer. 

That  comprised  the  sum  of  their  conversation  on 
the  homeward  drive,  but  the  flaw  had  disappeared  from 
Christine's  night  of  nights. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

FREDDY  TAKES  THINGS  INTO  HER  OWN  HANDS 

One  late  August  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was 
streaming  into  the  garden  and  flowers  and  ripening 
fruits  were  filling  the  air  with  warm  sweet  odors, 
Christine  was  sketching  under  the  spreading  elm. 
Suddenly  her  pencil  came  to  a  full  stop.  Her  eyes 
began  to  trail  a  diaphanous  cloud  that  was  drifting 
like  a  wisp  of  smoke  across  the  deep-blue  sky.  On 
an  impulse  she  threw  herself  flat  on  her  back  in  the 
cool  grass  and  soon  her  thoughts  were  drifting  as 
idly  as  the  cloud.  It  was  no  time  for  work.  It  was 
an  afternoon  of  sunshine  and  utter  laziness. 

Presently  another  plume  of  a  cloud  floated  over  her 
head.  Haw  softly  white  and  feathery  it  was!  If 
vshe  were  only  a  poet  like  Douglas !  Douglas !  It  was 
more  than  two  weeks  now  since  she  had  written,  and 
never  a  word  from  that  young  scamp.  She  would 
make  one  more  attempt.  Perhaps  she'd  get  up  energy 
to  send  him  a  scorcher  of  a  note  before  bedtime. 

A  voice  close  beside  her  brought  her  up  on  her 
elbow. 

"  I  ask  your  pardon  for  disturbing  you,  Miss  Chris- 
tine." Mark  was  standing  over  her,  the  warm  smile 
he  always  reserved  for  her  lighting  his  face.  "  But 
Mr.  Barton's  waked  from  his  nap  and  he's  asking  for 
you." 

314 


FREDDY  315 

"  Bless  the  old  dear's  soul !  I've  neglected  him 
shamefully  this  whole  day.  But  the  sunshine's  too 
wonderful  to  waste  even  a  minute  indoors." 

The  man  regarded  her  fixedly  for  all  of  a  moment, 
then  with  the  air  of  one  whose  mind  has  been  swaying 
between  two  impulses,  with  the  balance  not  on  the  side 
of  his  better  judgment,  said  as  they  moved  swiftly 
across  the  turf,  "  It'd  cost  me  my  head  if  he  knew  I 
was  letting  my  tongue  spill  over,  but  you'd  better 
know.  He's  rather  bad  to-day.  His  pain's  always 
worse  when  he's  troubled.  You  see  " —  with  a  cau- 
tious, upturned  glance  at  the  windows  of  his  master's 
room  — "  you  see,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice,  "  this 
is  the  day  Master  Douglas'  mother  died  —  some 
twenty  years  ago  —  and  the  lad  never  failed  to  go  to 
the  grave  with  flowers.  Mr.  Barton  set  rare  store  by 
her,  and  he's  remembering  things  to-day." 

"  Uncle  Barty,"  Christine  tore  open  the  door,  and 
danced  over  the  floor  of  the  darkened  room  to  the  bed- 
side, "  I've  come  for  a  dish  of  tea  and  a  real  good 
gossip." 

"  Don't  be  a  pest,"  he  snapped,  attempting  a  look  of 
severity  at  her  cyclonic  entrance ;  but  he  took  her  hand 
in  both  of  his,  and  drew  her  down  on  the  bed  at  his 
side. 

"  First  we're  going  to  have  some  light  on  the  sub- 
ject. There,  that  shade  can  go  up  three  inches  higher 
without  your  running  the  slightest  risk  of  damaging 
your  complexion  with  a  single  freckle.  Now,  if 
you're  a  real  obedient  child,  I'll  make  you  a  cup  of 
what  Misery  calls  the  witch's  brew  —  your  Indian 
tea,  she  means  —  and  then  we'll  finish  that  article  on 
the  fugue  that  we  began  last  night." 


316      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

The  sunken  old  eyes  brightened,  then  dulled  again. 
"  I've  no  interest  in  fugues  to-day." 

"  Uncle  Barty,  how  can  you  go  back  on  fugues ! 
You  know  they're  the  staple  of  your  diet,  and  you'd 
starve  to  death  without  them." 

But  for  once  her  raillery  evoked  no  answering 
gleam.  Instead,  he  moved  his  head  and  fingers  rest- 
lessly. The  misery  in  his  face  brought  her  to  her 
knees  beside  him. 

"What  is  it,  Uncle  Barty?  Tell  me.  Perhaps  I 
can  help." 

He  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  lay  still  so  long 
that  she  thought  he  had  drifted  off  to  sleep. 

"  No  one  can  help,"  he  said  at  last.  "  She's  been 
dead  twenty-two  years  to-day,  the  boy's  mother,"  he 
added,  after  another  spell  of  quiet.  "  My  call's  coming 
soon  now,  and  I'll  have  to  answer  to  her  for  him. 
Where  is  he?  I  want  him." 

For  a  moment  or  two  after  he  had  spoken,  silence 
was  maintained.  There  was  that  in  his  voice  and 
manner  that  made  her  realize  that  in  the  crucible  of 
separation  Joshua  Barton's  heart  had  softened  and 
now  his  enduring  need  of  the  boy  had  wrung  that 
cry  from  him.  A  choking  longing  possessed  her  to 
comfort  him,  but  the  right  words  would  not  come. 

"  Uncle  Barty,"  she  half  whispered,  when  she  could 
endure  the  stillness  no  longer,  "  I  — " 

Mark's  tap  at  the  door,  and  his  quiet  entry  made  her 
stop  on  her  unfinished  sentence. 

"  A  letter  for  you,  Mr.  Barton." 

"  Well,  well,  who's  it  from  ?  Don't  stand  there  like 
a  mummy." 

"  I  don't  seem  to  know  the  handwriting,  sir,  and 


FREDDY  317 

the  postmark's  blurred.  Looks  like  New  Am  —  Am- 
sterdam, it  looks  like." 

"  Why  in  Sam  Hill  don't  you  read  it  ?  Keep  me 
waiting  all  day.  I  don't  know  a  soul  in  New  Amster- 
dam, wherever  that  is.  Some  charity  or  other,  most 
likely." 

"  It's  hospital  stationery,  so  most  likely  they  want 
a  donation,"  agreed  Christine.  "  It  says, 

"  '  MR.  JOSHUA  BARTON, 

"  '  Merrivale,  Mich. 
"'DEAR  SIR: 

"  *  Pardon  the  liberty  I  take  in  writing  to  you  this 
way,  but  I  thought  you  ought  to  know  that  your 
nephew  was  brought  here  two  weeks  ago  unconscious 
from  an  automobile  accident.  He  risked  his  life  for 
a  poor  little  girl  who  was  playing  in  the  street.  The 
injury  was  very  serious,  and  the  hospital  authorities 
tried  to  communicate  at  once  with  his  relatives,  but 
couldn't  find  any.  We  did  learn  where  he  lived  in 
New  York— ": 

"  Poor  Doug,"   Christine   interrupted  herself   with 
quivering  lips,  "  that's  why  he  didn't  answer — " 
"  Go  on,"  came  from  lips  stiff  as  if  from  cold. 

"  '  But  that  was  a  boarding-house  and  the  landlady 
knew  nothing  of  him.  He'd  only  been  there  a  short 
time. 

"  '  Last  night  we  thought  the  end  was  near,  so  I 
looked  again  for  some  hint,  and  found  what  I  at  first 
thought  was  a  scrap  of  his  writing-stuff  —  he's  a 
writer,, I'm  told  —  but  this  morning  he  took  a  turn 
for  the  better  and  spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"  'Does  Uncle  Joshua  know  ? '  was  what  he  asked. 


3i8      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

"  '  Now,  Uncle  Joshua  was  the  person  he  was  writing 
to  on  that  piece  of  paper. 

"  '  This  morning  one  of  the  orderlies  came  back  from 
his  vacation  and  I  was  telling  him  about  the  new  case 
that  had  come  in  while  he  was  away,  and  when  he  took 
a  look,  he  knew  him.  He'd  once  worked  as  garden- 
er's underhelp  for  you.  So  the  minute  I  got  your 
address  I  sat  down  and  wrote. 

"  '  Later  in  the  Day. 

"  '  I  didn't  get  a  chance  to  finish  until  now.  Dr. 
Brown  says  your  nephew's  got  a  good  fighting  chance 
now,  but  he  thinks  you  should  know  how  things  are. 
So  I'm  enclosing  the  piece  of  paper  I  spoke  of,  and 
hoping  that  you  will  believe  I'll  take  good  care  of  the 
poor  young  man, 

"  '  I  sign  myself, 
"  '  His  nurse, 

"  '  MARY  THOMPSON.'  " 

"  Read  —  what's  —  enclosed."  The  words  came 
disjointedly. 

Christine  had  to  blink  the  mist  from  her  eyes  be- 
fore she  could  proceed. 


(t   c 
il  c 


DEAR  UNCLE  JOSHUA: 

I  ran  across  a  week-old  copy  of  the  Merrivale 
Times  to-day,  and  saw  an  account  of  the  fire.  Too 
bad  the  old  place  was  so  badly  burned,  but  I'm  thank- 
ful to  God  you  were  — ' ' 

"Yes,  yes?" 

"  That's  all,  Uncle  B-Barty.  It  was  n-never  f -fin- 
ished." 

For  unreckoned  moments  the  old  man  lay  staring 
into  vacancy. 


FREDDY  319 

Then  at  last  he  roared  out  but  it  was  a  feeble  roar, 
"  Some  country  doctor  that,  I  suppose.  Huh,  a  fight- 
ing chance.  Well,  he's  going  to  win  that  fight  if  I 
have  to  send  every  specialist  up  from  New  York." 
The  sunken  eyes  were  lighted  now  with  a  strange  fire. 
"  Get  Dr.  Marsh  on  the  phone  at  once,  Christine ;  at 
once,  do  you  hear?  Don't  stand  there  like  a  —  a 
block  of  wood.  We've  a  huge  task  ahead  of  us,  but 
that  boy's  life  must  be  saved."  The  last  words  were 
almost  inaudible. 

"  Dr.  Marsh  is  operating,  Uncle  Barty,"  the  girl 
reported,  after  what  seemed  to  him  endless  hours  of 
waiting,  i  "  He'll  call  you  the  minute  he's  through." 

"  H'mph,  that'll  be  too  late  for  the  six-ten.  Send 
Mark  to  me.  We'll  have  to  charter  a  special  train." 

After  Mark  had  been  despatched  to  headquarters  to 
arrange  details  of  this  intricate  enterprise,  Mr.  Bar- 
ton lost  himself  in  thought. 

"Weren't  you  and  the  boy  pretty  good  friends?" 
he  roused  himself  once  to  ask. 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Barty." 

"I  —  I  don't  want  to  pry,  but  you're  pledged, 
aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no  indeed.     We're  just  friends  — " 

"  He  left  home  on  account  of  you." 

:<  Your  forbidding  him  our  house  was  just  the  last 
straw.  There  was  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  but 
friendship  between  us." 

"  He  was  in  love  with  some  girl.  I  found  out  as 
much.  Do  you  know  who  she  was?" 

Christine  shook  her  head,  choking  back  a  sob.  The 
night  drive  along  the  river  bank  came  back  to  her  as 
a  vivid  picture,  and  the  halting  little  confession  of 


320      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

his  life  and  love  insisted  on  her  recollection.  Poor 
Doug,  he  was  so  young  to  be  knocking  at  death's 
door!  But  how  like  his  warm,  generous,  idealistic 
self  to  offer  up  his  life  for  a  little  street-waif! 

"Did  he  ever  mention  anyone?"  Mr.  Barton  de- 
manded bluntly.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  face. '  It 
was  as  if  he  were  trying  to  probe  her  thoughts. 

"  Doug  told  me  he  cared  for  some  one,  but  he 
didn't  say  who  she  was.  I've  been  trying  to  think. 
I  don't  know  a  girl  he  knows  " —  Christine's  tears 
were  well  back  now  — "  except  Freddy  Blue,"  she 
added,  after  a  moment's  thought. 

Joshua  Barton  brought  his  clenched  hand  down  on 
the  bed-clothes.  "That's  the  girl  —  Freddy  Blue. 
Where  were  my  eyes  ?  I  thought  —  a  hundred  things 
now — "  he  muttered  to  himself,  incoherently. 

Christine  stared  in  growing  wonderment. 

"  Freddy  Blue,"  he  began  to  murmur  again. 
"  Freddy  Blue,  of  course." 

Christine  still  stared.  Any  number  of  Douglas' 
quiet  remarks,  and  several  small  occurrences  that 
hooked  themselves  together  into  a  perfect  chain  now 
rose  up  in  her  memory  to  support  the  truth  of  Mr. 
Barton's  words.  Of  course,  it  was  Freddy  Blue. 
Why,  almost  at  the  first  moment  of  their  meeting  he 
had  told  her  of  his  life-long  friendship  with  Freddy 
Blue.  And  Freddy  Blue  herself  had  sobbed  that  out 
that  night  in  the  garden. 

But  what  had  caused  Freddy's  unusual  agitation? 
This  question  perplexed  Christine  now  as  then.  Could 
it  be  that  she  had  loved  Doug  and  that  after  a  lovers' 
quarrel  she  had  engaged  herself  to  Dr.  Denton?  But 
she  knew  Doug  had  never  declared  himself.  He  said 


FREDDY  321 

as  much  that  memorable  night  of  the  drive.  Well, 
then,  if  Freddy  loved  Dr.  Denton  and  was  soon  to  be- 
come his  wife,  what  right  had  she  to  be  distressed  to 
the  point  of  tears  over  a  farewell  note  from  Douglas 
Barton?  What  did  it  mean? 

Her  thoughts  were  shuttling  back  and  forth  about 
this  teasing  problem  when  Mr.  Barton's  next  words 
transfixed  her. 

"  Bring  Freddy  Blue  here." 

"Here?     Now?" 

"  Yes,  here,  now,"  he  blazed  at  her ;  "  when  did  you 
think?  Next  week  or  next  year?" 

"  Hadn't  I  better  wait  until  Mark  —  ?  " 

"Am  I  a  puling  infant  or  a  doddering  old  idiot? 
Can't  I  be  left  alone  a  single  minute?  There's  work 
to  be  done,  and  at  once,  and  I've  got  to  do  it.  That 
boy's  going  to  have  more  than  a  fighting  chance  if  I 
—  I  have  to  spend  my  last  dollar.  There,  forgive 
me,  Christine,  I  quite  forgot  myself."  His  passion 
quickly  raged  itself  out,  and  he  lay  back  with  his  eyes 
closed  and  his  mouth  working  convulsively.  "  I  want 
to  see  Douglas  before  my  call  comes,"  he  said  after  a 
moment's  pause,  in  a  tone  so  feeble  that  it  made  her 
throat  tight.  "  You  won't  hold  it  up  against  me, 
child?" 

"  No,  Uncle  Barty."  She  put  her  fresh  young  lips 
to  the  withered  cheek  before  she  left  the  room. 

Christine's  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  tangle  as 
she  walked  toward  the  Blue  cottage  at  a  hurried  pace 
in  spite  of  the  scorching  sun.  She  realized  her  mis- 
sion was  delicate.  Freddy  would  demand  some  ex- 
planation of  this  sudden  summons.  How  much 
should  she  divulge?  She  had  not  reached  any  satis- 


322      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

factory  conclusion  when  she  thrust  open  the  small 
wicket-gate. 

She  had  gone  but  a  step  or  two  up  the  flower-bor- 
dered walk  when  a  piercing  shriek  rang  out  from 
somewhere  behind  her,  and  drove  all  thought  of  the 
dreaded  task  from  her  mind  for  the  time  being.  She 
whirled  about,  and  there  in  the  road  lay  Tommy  Blue, 
a  bicycle  fallen  upon  her,  and  a  broken  bottle  of  milk 
clutched  in  her  hands. 

To  Christine's  excited  fancy  the  street  was  a  welter 
of  automobiles  and  giant  trucks  bearing  madly  down 
on  the  child.  Afterwards  she  was  told  there  were 
but  two  automobiles  in  the  entire  block,  one  of  them 
stationary,  the  other  some  dozen  or  more  rods  be- 
yond the  point  of  the  accident.  Douglas'  heroic  act 
was  in  her  mind  as  she  dashed  into  the  road,  and 
dragged  Tommy  to  safety  on  the  curb. 

"  I  f-fell  off  F-Freddy's  o-old  w-wheel,"  Tommy 
sobbed,  in  the  shelter  of  Christine's  arms.  "  S-she 
t-told  me  n-not  to  t-take  it,  b-but  we  n-needed  m-milk, 
and  now  s-see  where  't  is." 

Christine  saw  where  it  was  —  a  steady,  little  white 
stream  running  in  the  gutter,  but  she  also  saw  another 
little  stream  equally  steady,  but  it  was  bright  red  and 
flowing  from  a  small,  -much  begrimed  hand.  For  a 
moment  everything  swam  before  her  eyes,  and  uncer- 
tainly her  hand  fluttered  to  her  forehead.  Then  she 
tried  to  fight  off  the  black  wave  that  was  threatening 
to  engulf  her. 

"  You've  cut  your  hand  a  bit,  Tommy,"  her  voice 
seemed  to  come  from  afar  off.  "  Better  let  Freddy 
mend  you  up." 

"  Freddy's  got  a  norful  headache,"  Tommy  replied, 


FREDDY  323 

her  tears  flowing  afresh  at  the  discovery  of  her  wound, 
"  and  mother's  down  town,  and  nobody's  home. 
O-o-oh,  'm  I  going  to  die?  Look  at  all  the  blood. 
I'll  just  die  if  you  don't  fix  my  hand." 

Christine's  eyes  widened.  Could  she  have  heard 
aright?  She —  why,  the  very  sight  of  blood  made 
her  positively  ill!  As  for  touching  that  cut  hand  — 
she  couldn't.  Surely  there  was  somebody  else. 

"Where's  your  father?"  she  demanded  weakly, 
half -leading,  half -carry  ing  the  little  girl  up  the  path. 

"  He's  d-down  at  the  church,  playing  organ," 
sobbed  Tommy.  "  O-o-oh,  he'll  be  s-sorry  I'm  all 
dead—" 

"  You're  not  going  to  die  on  my  hands.  Show  me 
where  we  can  get  hot  water  and  —  things."  Chris- 
tine's cheeks  were  chalky-pale,  but  she  spoke  through 
grimly  set  lips. 

She  was  still  a  bit  shaky  when  she  crept  into  the 
darkened  bedroom  where,  a  towel  bound  about  her 
head,  Freddy  lay,  her  regal  length  extended  on  a  dilap- 
idated old  sofa.  Somehow  it  was  borne  in  upon 
Christine  more  forcibly  than  ever  as  she  drew  nearer 
the  recumbent  figure  that  Freddy  Blue  had  heroic  pro- 
portions for  a  woman.  Even  in  the  subdued  light 
Freddy's  face  looked  swollen  and  marred  with  tears. 

"  You  poor  dear,"  murmured  Christine.  "  I  didn't 
know  you  had  such  headaches." 

There  was  a  catch  in  Freddy's  voice  which  sounded 
husky  and  toneless.  "  I  don't.  Never  had  a  head- 
ache before  in  my  life.  I'm  disgustingly  healthy. 
But  let's  talk  of  something  else.  Tell  me  something 
funny.  I  want  to  1-laugh.  I  f-feel  as  if  I  hadn't 
laughed  in  y-years." 


324      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

But  it  was  Tommy,  not  Christine,  who  brought  a 
light  laugh  to  her  lips.  At  that  very  instant  the  door 
was  stealthily  opened  and  a  small  form  topped  with  a 
curly  head  appeared  in  the  aperture,  stage-whispering, 
"  Freddy,  Freddy,  are  you  asleep  ?  I've  been  norful 
bad  again.  You  won't  scold,  will  you,  'cause  I  'most 
died.  Look  here !  "  and  triumphantly  Tommy  waved 
before  her  sister's  gaze  the  clumsily  bandaged  hand. 

"  How  ever  did  you  do  it?  " 

"  And  I've  got  to  crawl  around  for  you  on  my 
hands  and  knees  till  you  say  stop,  aren't  I  ?  "  Tommy 
demanded,  earnest-eyed,  when  she  had  done  full  jus- 
tice to  every  detail  of  the  —  to  her,  at  least  —  hair- 
raising  accident. 

Freddy  laughed.  "  I  believe  that's  the  rule,  kiddie. 
You  have  to  serve  the  aggrieved  person  till  she's  sat- 
isfied." 

"  Want  a  drink  er  —  er  —  sumthin'  ?  "  the  culprit 
asked,  so  ingenuously  that  Freddy  laughed  again. 

"  Nothing,  thanks !  I'm  busy  now.  Suppose  you 
run  out  into  the  yard  to  play,  but  come  the  second  I 
call.  You're  getting  off  easy  this  time,  Tommy." 

Tommy  thought  so,  too,  and  her  gratitude  was 
partly  expressed  in  the  fervent  kiss  she  dropped  upon 
her  sister's  cheek  before  she  betook  herself  out  into 
the  world  of  sunshine  and  play. 

After  the  door  had  closed  upon  Tommy,  for  a  full 
half-moment  neither  girl  spoke,  then  Freddy  said 
slowly,  turning  her  gray-green  eyes  unsmilingly  upon 
her  visitor,  "  You're  a  duck,  Christine.  It  must've 
been  an  awfully  messy  job  and  — " 

"  Nonsense,"  denied  Christine,  smiling  sidelong  at 
the  memory. 


FREDDY  325 

Freddy  continued  quietly,  as  if  there  had  been  no 
interruption.  "  And  I  know  just  how  you  hate  such 
things,  blood  and  accidents  and  cripples.  Remember 
we  talked  about  that  the  first  time  we  met?  " 

Christine  nodded  soberly.  "  I'm  still  fool  enough 
to  want  to  faint  or  run  when  somebody's  hurt,  but 
I've  —  learned  heaps  —  about  cripples  since  that  day. 
I  don't  want  to  run  now  when  I  see  one.  I  want  to 
—  to  lend  a  hand  —  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know," 
she  wound  up  earnestly,  if  a  bit  incoherently. 

"  I  don't  wonder  he  —  everybody  loves  you," 
Freddy  said,  in  a  queer,  choked  way. 

"  But  they  don't,"  Christine  protested,  with  unex- 
pected fervor ;  "  that's  what  you  said  that  night  in  the 
garden,  and  it  isn't  true.  I've  wanted  to  tell  you  ever 
so  many  times  —  I  —  you  — "  she  floundered  help- 
lessly for  a  moment,  then  broke  off.  There  was  so 
much  to  tell.  Where  should  she  begin? 

Unconsciously  Freddy  helped  her  by  asking,  with 
an  elaborate  carelessness,  "  Heard  from  Doug  lately  ?  " 

"  I  haven't,  but  Mr.  Barton  had  a  letter  this  morn- 
ing." 

Freddy's  feigned  indifference  fell  from  her.  "  Mr. 
Barton !  Doug  wrote  him  —  not  me,"  and  to  Chris- 
tine's horrified  surprise  she  buried  her  face  in  the 
pillows,  and  her  body  shook  with  great  sobs. 

Christine  was  instantly  at  her  side,  the  memory  of 
that  letter  to  Mr.  Barton  full  upon  her.  "There, 
there,  dear,  don't  take  it  like  that.  Besides,  who 
knows  — " 

"Who  knows?"  Freddy  repeated,  her  eyes  swim- 
ming in  tears.  "  I  know.  I  know  every  year  since 
Douglas  Barton's  lived  here,"  she  imparted  passion- 


326      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

ately,  "  he  and  I've  gone  together  on  this  day  to  his 
mother's  grave.  He  said  it  was  a  sacred  act  that 
bound  us  together  for  all  time,  that  all  our  lives,  no 
matter  where  we  were,  we'd  make  this  pilgrimage,  and 
now  —  to-day  —  not  a  word,  not  a  sign  from  him. 
I  went  there  a-alone,"  she  gasped  in  hard,  cutting 
sobs. 

"  But,  Freddy,  I  don't  understand.     Dr.  Denton  — " 

"  Dr.  Denton !  "  Freddy  peered  up  at  her  through 
her  tears.  "  I  suppose  I'm  fool  enough  to  make  my- 
self sick  by  crying,  but  don't,  for  pity's  sake,  send  for 
Dr.  Denton." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  send  for  Dr.  Denton,  but,  but, 
you're  —  engaged  to  —  to  Dr.  Denton,  aren't  you?" 
Christine  blurted  out  miserably. 

The  other  girl  sat  up  abruptly,  and  stared  at  her 
out  of  heavy,  swollen  eyes.  "  Are  you  out  of  your 
senses?  I  engaged  to  Dr.  Denton?  Where  in  the 
name  of  all  that's  great  and  good  did  you  get  that 
idea?" 

"  Oh,  you  darling."  Christine  rasped  out  a  sob  as 
she  flung  her  arms  about  Freddy,  and  laughed  and 
cried  all  in  a  breath. 

It  was  Freddy's  turn  to  aver  now,  "  But  I  don't  un- 
derstand. Whatever  made  you  think  that,  and  where 
does  the  darling  come  in?" 

Christine  dropped  down  on  the  rug  beside  the  couch. 
"  I  — "  she  began,  a  deep  flush  staining  her  cheeks, 
but  again  her  arms  encircled  Freddy's  neck. 

"Oh,  you  dear,  dear  thing!"  she  babbled.  "It's 
too  wonderful  —  is  it  true?" 

"Of  course,  but  what's  all  the  excitement  about?" 


FREDDY  327 

Freddy  asked,  a  trifle  curtly.  "  What  made  you  think 
that  fool  thing?" 

Christine  strove  for  calmness.  But  it  was  hard  to 
be  calm  when  her  blood  was  singing  in  her  veins,  and 
she  wanted  to  dance  from  sheer  joy-madness. 

"  Why,  I  —  you  —  I've  seen  you  together  ever  so 
many  times,"  she  began  lamely,  "  and  you  both  looked 
so  tremendously  happy,"  her  mind  had  quickly  re- 
verted to  the  glimpse  she  had  caught  of  the  pair  in  the 
doctor's  car,  "and  —  and  both  of  you  spoke  of  a 
secret  — " 

"  Oh,  that,"  interrupted  Freddy,  "  that  isn't  a  secret 
any  longer."  She  smiled  now  through  the  tears  that 
still  glistened  on  her  lashes.  "  The  final  arrange- 
ments were  put  through  yesterday,  Dr.  Denton  phoned 
me,  for  a  wonderful  big  orthopoedic  hospital  in  the 
city,  and  he's  to  be  the  head.  The  plans  are  going  to 
be  drawn  up  at  once,  and  they've  rented  that  Brown 
sanatorium  for  temporary  quarters,  and  I'm  to  be  on 
the  staff  —  oh,  just  a  weeny-teeny  mite  of  a  job,  but 
with  a  real  salary,  and  now  that  mother's  getting  about 
again,  I  can  be  spared,  you  see." 

"  I  see,"  repeated  Christine  hazily,  as  one  whose 
mental  vision  is  dazzled  by  too  bright  a  light.  Docky 
not  engaged!  Of  course  he  would  never  love  her,  but 
now  that  heavy  torturing  weight  of  mental  dishon- 
esty to  Freddy  Blue  was  magically  swept  away,  she 
was  free  to  pour  out  for  him  the  largesse  of  her 
heart. 

Dimly  she  was  conscious  that  Freddy  was  speaking 
again.  Presently  she  gathered  the  drift  of  what  she 
was  saying.  Douglas  —  never  told  of  his  love  —  too 


328      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

proud  because  of  his  father's  past  —  and  of  course 
there  could  be  no  question  of  marriage  between  them 
—  it  was  merely  that  she  was  hurt  because  their  life- 
long friendship  was  so  fragile  a  thing  when  he  had 
vowed  he  would  never  forget  her. 

"  Why  is  there  no  question  of  marriage  between 
you?"  Christine  roused  herself  at  last  to  ask  bluntly. 

Freddy's  answer  came  in  a  choked  tone,  "  Who'd 
want  to  marry  a  female  giant  ?  " 

"  Freddy ! "  Christine's  exclamation  expressed 
volumes.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  you'd  let  such  a 
picayune  reason  stand  between  you  and  Doug?  " 

Again  Freddy's  head  went  down  among  the  pillows. 
"  I'm  a  head  taller  than  Doug,"  came  in  a  muffled 
voice. 

"  If  I  loved  a  man  I  wouldn't  care  if  I  were  seven 
heads  taller." 

"Honest,  Christine?"  Freddy  gazed  at  her  out 
of  glad,  incredulous  eyes,  "  Honest?  " 

"  Honest  Injun,  cross  my  heart  and  hope  to  die," 
the  old  childish  vow  came  from  unsmiling  lips.  "  Love 
is  the  only  thing  in  the  world  that  really  matters.  Be- 
sides, don't  you  see  there's  so  much  more  of  you  to  love 
him  with  and  for  him  to  love,"  she  ended  quaintly,  if 
a  bit  incoherently. 

For  a  few  seconds  —  it  may  have  been  five  — 
neither  girl  spoke.  Freddy  lay  pensively  thoughtful 
and  Christine  was  conscious  of  a  growing  dismay  at 
her  inability  to  control  the  situation.  She  had  been 
here,  oh,  probably  a  half  hour,  and  she  had  not  yet 
approached  the  real  object  of  her  visit.  Of  course 
Freddy  was  too  ill  to  obey  Uncle  Barty's  imperious 


FREDDY  329 

summons  this  afternoon,  but  she  ought  to  give  her  at 
least  a  hint  about  Douglas'  accident  and  the  real  rea- 
son she  had  not  heard  from  him  to-day.  Well,  she 
must  set  about  the  difficult  task  quickly,  and  then  be 
off.  Poor  Uncle  Barty!  By  this  time  he  must  have 
worked  himself  into  a  fever  of  impatience  at  her 
delay. 

"  You've  heard  of  counting  chickens  before  they're 
hatched,"  Freddy  broke  the  little  silence.  "  Here  we 
are  talking  away  about  my  refusing  to  marry  Doug 
when  he's  never  even  asked  me."  Her  little  laugh  was 
half  a  sob. 

Christine  made  a  sharp  little  exclamation  and  her 
heart  beat  painfully.  A  thought  that  had  been  haunt- 
ing the  outskirts  of  her  mind  all  during  this  visit  sud- 
denly pushed  itself  well  to  the  front.  She  felt  the 
blood  scorch  her  face  and  as  quickly  recede,  leaving 
her  cold,  pale,  trembling. 

"Oh  —  I  —  Freddy,  you'll  hate  me  all  your  life, 
but  —  but  I  as  much  as  told  Doug  you  were  engaged 
to  Dr.  Denton."  Her  words  came  in  a  rush  now. 
"  Don't  look  at  me  like  that,  Freddy.  I'll  make  things 
right.  I'll  write  to  him,  no,  I'll  —  I'll  get  Uncle 
Barty  to  let  me  go  with  Dr.  Marsh  on  the  special  to- 
night." 

Freddy  had  to  moisten  her  dry  lips  once,  twice  be- 
fore words  would  come.  "  Dr.  Marsh !  Special !  " 
Suddenly  she  remembered  Christine  had  spoken  of  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Barton.  "  He  —  he's  —  what's  hap- 
pened ?  " 

Again  Christine's  words  came  pell-mell,  as  she  de- 
tailed briefly  as  she  could  the  contents  of  the  two  let- 


330 

ters.  "  The  nurse  said,"  she  wound  up  brokenly, 
"  he  has  a  fighting  chance,  but  oh,  Freddy,  he'll  have 
ten  fighting  chances  when  I  tell  him — " 

Freddy  rose  from  the  sofa  as  if  projected  by 
springs.  "  When  you  tell  him  —  if  there's  anything 
to  tell,  I'll  do  the  telling  myself." 

Shortly  before  midnight  a  special  train  was  thun- 
dering across  peaceful  country  towards  the  east.  In 
the  private  car  that  belonged  to  the  president  of  the 
railroad  —  Joshua  Barton's  name  was  potent  to  work 
such  magic  —  were  two  guests,  a  gray-haired  man  who 
would  be  tagged  anywhere  as  a  physician  of  some  note, 
and  an  over-tall  girl  with  odd,  gray-green  eyes.  The 
gray-haired  man  was  already  fast  asleep,  the  over-tall 
girl  with  the  gray-green  eyes  was  not.  She  lay  sway- 
ing to  the  motion  of  the  express,  her  eyes  on  the 
vague,  ghostly  landscape  that  was  tearing  past  but 
her  mind  had  swung  onward,  ahead  of  the  rocking 
train  to  that  tiny  hospital  in  New  Amsterdam  which, 
by  a  curious  coincidence,  sheltered  within  its  walls  her 
cousin,  the  head  dietitian  of  the  institution,  as  well  as 
Douglas  Barton,  her  lifelong  friend. 

And  separated  by  an  ever-growing  chain  of  miles 
but  linked  in  thought,  another  girl  was  lying  wide- 
eyed,  staring  out  into  the  starry  night.  "  Freddy  was 
a  peach  not  to  hold  a  grudge.  I  hope  Doug  won't  be 
an  Injun.  In  seven,  no,  six  hours  now  Freddy '11  be 
there,  and  then,  oh  —  God  be  good  to  the  two  of 
them!" 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

A  GRATE  FIRE  AND  —  THE  END 

"If  that  pesky  cake  doesn't  turn  out  a  perfect  pip- 
pin, Misery,  I'll  be  tempted  to  drown  myself  in  this 
frosting."  Christine  dabbed  a  moist,  floury  forehead 
with  a  corner  of  her  bungalow  apron,  and  proceeded 
with  a  vigorous  beating  of  the  aforesaid  foamy  mass 
into  which  she  threatened  to  precipitate  herself. 

Misery,  who  was  ever  a  literal  soul,  glanced  up 
quickly  from  the  pile  of  silverware  she  was  polishing. 
"  Now,  Miss  Christine,  don't  you  go  talkin'  of  drown- 
in'  yourself.  You  a  young  thing,  and  pretty  as  a  rose, 
if  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to  say  it  to  your  face,  and  with 
everything  to  live  for!  But  listen  to  me  preachin' 
away.  Land  knows,  most  folks  got  enough  sweepin' 
to  do  right  in  their  own  front  yards,  says  I.  Many's 
the  time  I've  wanted  to  do  that  very  same  thing,  and 
I'd  'a'  done  it,  too,  but  for  that  blessed  doctor." 

"  Mrs.  Anderson  says  silver  cake's  Docky's  favo- 
rite," Christine  remarked,  in  what  she  flattered  her- 
self was  an  indifferent  tone,  to  the  accompaniment  of 
the  egg-beater. 

Misery  stole  a  glance  at  her  out  of  the  tail  of  her 
eye,  then  nodded  slowly  to  herself  two  or  three  times 
as  if  supremely  satisfied  with  what  she  had  seen. 

"Of  course,"  the  girl  hastened  to  add,  as  she  ran 
the  prongs  of  a  fork  through  the  creamy  froth  and 
lifted  it  here  and  there  into  tiny  peaks,  "  it's  on 

33i 


332      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Laurie's  account  I'm  anxious  that  cake  should  be  a 
masterpiece." 

"Of  course.  He's  the  birthday  child  to-day,  and 
you  sure  — " 

"  A  telegraph  for  you,"  Amelia  hobbled  into  the  sun- 
bright  kitchen. 

"  For  me?  "     Christine  flew  to  meet  her. 

"  It's  got  your  name  on  it,  anyhow,"  Amelia  said 
drily,  and  lingered  in  frank  curiosity  to  learn  its  con- 
tents. 

"  I  was  thinking  somehow  it  ought  to  be  for 
Laurie,"  Christine  flopped  into  the  nearest  chair,  and 
blew  back  a  stray  tendril  of  gold  from  one  eye. 
"  Everything  belongs  to  him  to-day.  My  hands  are 
so  sticky  —  why,  why,  oh,  how  perfectly  heavenly!" 
She  flung  her  arms  about  the  nearest  form,  which 
chanced  to  be  Misery's,  and  swept  her  into  a  mad  jig 
up  and  down  the  room. 

"  H'm,"  Amelia  ejaculated  reproachfully,  after  a 
moment.  "  I  can't  wait  no  longer  with  all  them  things 
to  be  done  before  night,"  and  made  as  if  to  leave  the 
room. 

Christine  who  well  knew  wild  horses  couldn't  have 
dragged  Amelia  from  the  spot  before  her  kindly  curi- 
osity was  satisfied,  and  who  yet  couldn't  forbear  to 
tease,  released  Misery  so  suddenly  that  she  flew  al- 
most the  length  of  the  room,  and  waving  the  telegram 
triumphantly  before  the  old  nurse,  cried  with  her 
youthful  exuberance,  "  Isn't  it  great,  'Melia?  They've 
gone  and  done  it." 

Amelia  walked  out  of  the  door  as  dignifiedly  as 
rheumatic  old  joints  would  permit.  "  All  I  can  say 
is,  I  wouldn't  have  thought  it  of  you  — " 


A  GRATE  FIRE  AND  —  THE  END     333 

"I?  'Melia,  I  didn't  do  it,"  Christine  smiled  imp- 
ishly, "  but  if  I'd  had  the  chance,  who  knows,  and 
here  I  am  grinning  like  a  Cheshire  cat  when  Doug's 
lost—" 

"  Lost,"  Amelia  gave  a  little  start. 

"  Yes,  lost  to  me  forever  " —  tragically  — "  and  a 
couple  of  days  after  that.  Maybe  if  I'd  been  there! 
Well,  anyhow,  he  and  Freddy  leaped  the  awful  leap 
last  night,  and  she  says  they're  coming  home  after  a 
week  of  honeymooning." 

"  Sho,  I  ought  to  know  better  by  this  time  than  to 
get  all  worked  up  over  your  monkeyshines,  but  you 
sure  did  give  me  a  regular  turn  about  that  fine  young 
gentleman.  Married,  you  say.  Well,  now,  I'd  cer- 
tainly call  it  nice  if  — " 

But  Christine  did  not  wait  to  hear  Amelia's  pro- 
nouncement of  niceness.  She  was  already  running  up 
the  back  stairs,  two  or  three  steps  at  a  time.  An- 
other instant  and  she  had  catapulted  herself  across  Mr. 
Barton's  room  to  the  window  where  he  sat  in  his  in- 
valid's chair  sunning  himself. 

"They're  married,  Uncle  Barty!"  she  cried  ex- 
ultantly, waving  her  telegram  at  him. 

"  They're  married,  Christine,"  he  replied  in  instant 
mimicry  of  her  tones ;  and  he,  too,  waved  a  telegram. 

They  regarded  each  other  unsmilingly  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  laughed  together. 

"  Pouf,"  sniffed  Christine,  "  I  knew  it  before  you 
did,  anyhow.  Had  a  letter  from  Freddy  yesterday." 

A  wicked  little  gleam  appeared  in  the  deep-sunken 
eyes.  "  Douglas'  letter  came  in  the  afternoon  mail." 

"  And  you  never  told  me!  " 

"  And  you  never  told  me! " 


334      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

Whereupon  the  two  arch-conspirators  again  laughed 
together.  For  the  next  half  hour  they  were  busy 
quarreling  over  various  arrangements  for  the  home- 
coming of  the  newly  wedded  ones. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  if  you  insist  on  all  those  fool  flow- 
ers," Christine  flashed  him  her  most  engaging  smile, 
"  the  other  dinner  arrangements  have  to  be  left  to  me. 
You  shan't  have  even  a  finger  in  that  pie.  Pie!  Oh, 
Pete,  my  cake!  My  day'll  be  ruined  if — "  She  bit 
off  the  rest  of  the  sentence,  and  swallowed  it  in  her 
rapid  flight. 

But  Misery  had  saved  the  day  and  the  cake,  too,  and 
when  the  snowy  work  of  art  was  brought  to  the  table 
that  night,  crowned  with  fourteen  tiny  candles  and 
the  big  center  candle  for  good  luck,  Christine  was  sat- 
isfied. It  was,  if  she  said  it  as  shouldn't,  a  perfect 
birthday  cake.  But  she  didn't  have  to  say  it.  The 
others  said  it  for  her. 

Modestly  she  had  forbidden  Amelia  and  Misery  to 
mention  the  author  of  its  being.  But  she  had  for- 
gotten to  swear  the  twins,  who  had  been  haunting 
the  outskirts  of  the  kitchen  during  the  toothsome  per- 
formance, to  secrecy.  Hardly  had  Laurie  applied  the 
light  to  the  last  candle  when  the  nimble  tongue  of 
Daffy  broke  the  awed,  ecstatic  silence  into  which  she 
and  Dilly  had  fallen  upon  the  opening  of  that  mystic 
rite. 

"  Docky,  Docky,  isn't  it  the  bee-you- fullest  cake 
you  ever  saw?"  Daffy  almost  precipitated  herself  in 
her  eagerness  into  Dr.  Denton's  arms.  "  'N'  Christie 
made  it  all  herself." 

"  It  certainly  looks  like  the  bee-you-fullest  cake  I 
ever  saw,"  was  the  doctor's  prompt  and  satisfactory 


A  GRATE  FIRE  AND  — THE  END     335 

reply,  "  and  " —  slowly  he  consumed  the  morsel  he 
had  raised  to  his  lips,  with  the  air  of  one  who  was 
enjoying  ambrosia  to  say  the  least,  "  it  tastes  like  the 
bee-you- fullest  cake  in  all  the  world." 

His  eyes  met  the  brown  eyes  with  the  golden  flecks. 
The  brown  eyes  fell,  and  clung  obstinately  to  the  lace- 
doily-covered  plate  below  them  as  he  continued, 
"  Somebody  in  this  family,  Daffy,  has  fairy  fingers  as 
well  as  fairy  feet." 

It  was  a  homely  meal,  simple  in  all  its  appoint- 
ments, but  the  food  was  well  cooked  and  seasoned 
with  Misery's  loving  care,  and  partaken  amid  joyous 
chatter,  badinage,  and  many  peals  and  bursts  of  laugh- 
ter. Never  had  those  old  rafters,  though  they  had 
looked  down  upon  many  a  formal,  elaborate  dinner 
party,  graced  by  men  of  note  and  women  of  wit  and 
beauty,  rung  with  merrier  echoes.  Everyone  was  in 
a  lightsome  mood  as  befitted  the  occasion,  and  Chris- 
tine rejoiced  inwardly  at  the  quiet  contentment  that 
shone  from  Mr.  Barton's  deep-sunken  eyes.  His  birth- 
day gift  to  the  boy  had  been  a  check  ample  enough  to 
cover  a  year's  instruction  with  the  best  master  of  the 
violin  the  city  afforded.  Though  it  had  been  an  un- 
usually pain-filled  day  for  him,  he  had  insisted  on 
being  present  at  the  birthday  supper,  and  now  as  he  sat 
at  Laurie's  right,  it  warmed  the  girl's  heart  of  hearts 
to  see  the  look  of  understanding  that  flashed  now  and 
then  between  the  man  and  the  boy.  They  had  no 
need  of  words,  those  two;  they  were  in  perfect  ac- 
cord. 

When  even  the  twins  could  not  crowd  down  an- 
other morsel  of  birthday  cake,  and  the  birthday 
speeches  were  over  —  Misery's  and  Amelia's  reminded 


336      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART. 

Christine  forcibly  of  the  brook  that  ran  on  forever  — 
they  trooped  into  the  living-room.  There  Laurie 
played  all  the  old  favorites,  and  then  they  gathered 
about  the  piano,  and  sang  round  after  round  of  song. 
Presently  Christine  was  persuaded  to  slip  into  the 
silver-green  gown  and  dance  for  them.  And  that 
night  she  danced  as  she  never  had  before.  It  seemed 
to  Dr.  Denton,  at  least,  that  she  was  a  bodiless  sprite, 
a  winged  spirit,  so  immaterial  and  delicate  that  she 
moved  on  air.  And  to  the  girl  herself  it  seemed  that 
she  had  never  dreamed  of  the  possibilities  of  such 
ecstasy  —  she  was  dancing  the  sheer  beauty  of  life 
and  young  love  and  she  was  dancing  it  all  for  him. 
When  it  was  over,  she  obeyed  Mr.  Barton's  out- 
stretched hands. 

"  You  are  a  wonder-girl,"  he  half  whispered.  "  I 
haven't  been  so  —  so  stirred  since  I  don't  know  when. 
I  wish  Douglas  had  been  here,  to  — "  he  put  up  his 
hand  to  hide  the  twitching  of  his  lips  and  chin.  "  Nine 
o'clock,"  he  snapped  the  next  minute,  as  "  the  old- 
grandfather "  in  the  hall  sounded  its  rhythmic  boom; 
"  an  hour  past  my  bedtime !  You'll  have  me  down 
sick  to-morrow,  Christine.  What's  that  man  Mark 
thinking  of?" 

"  I'll  send  him  — "  Christine  made  an  impulsive 
move  towards  the  bow-window  in  which  Mark  sat  be- 
tween Amelia  and  Misery  with  all  the  dignity  of  a 
box-seat  holder. 

"  Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,"  the  old  man  caught  at 
her  hand. 

She  half  wheeled  and  met  his  wistful  gaze. 

"  Of  course,  Uncle  Barty,"  she  said  on  the  instant, 
and  presently  she  was  accompanying  Laurie  in  the 


A  GRATE  FIRE  AND  —  THE  END      337 

opening  tars  of  "  Oh !  That  We  Two  were  Maying." 
Her  voice  trembled  at  first  —  she  had  never  sung  be- 
fore Docky  —  but  soon  it  steadied  itself  and  as  the 
melody  swelled  tenderly  under  the  touch  of  Laurie's 
sensitive  fingers,  she  sang  with  the  same  sweet,  ex- 
quisite freshness  as  birds  sing. 

At  last,  when  Mr.  Barton  had  withdrawn  with 
Mark's  aid,  and  Amelia  had  swept  off  the  sleep-heavy 
but  still  protesting  twins,  and  Laurie,  drowsy-eyed 
from  the  exciting  events  of  the  day,  had  made  his  ex- 
cuses, Dr.  Denton  drew  up  a  huge  leather-covered 
chair  for  Christine  before  the  grate-fire. 

"  It's  been  a  pretty  full  day,  but,  oh,"  she  half- whis- 
pered, with  a  deep,  tremulous,  indrawn  breath,  "  it's 
been  a  real  day." 

There  was  a  quiet  moment  or  two  in  which  the  clock 
ticked.  Then  came  the  tinkle,  tinkle  of  rain  drops  on 
the  window-panes  like  the  refrain  of  a  lullaby. 

"  How  cozy !  "  Dr.  Denton  stretched  his  hands  to 
the  crackling  blaze. 

There  was  another  silence  in  which  the  tinkle,  tinkle 
of  the  drops  swelled  into  a  pitter-patter,  pitter-patter, 
and  then  burst  suddenly  into  a  tempest  of  rain  and 
wind.  Any  observer  at  that  moment  would  have  said 
both  occupants  of  the  room  had  their  eyes  fixed  on  the 
fire.  But  somehow  she  was  seeing  his  deep  gray, 
kindly  eyes,  the  sweep  of  wavy  brown  hair  which  he 
had  a  boyish  trick  of  tossing  back  from  his  forehead, 
the  squareness  of  his  shoulders,  his  splendid  length  of 
limb. 

And  in  turn,  he  was  seeing  the  softness  of  her 
mouth,  the  sweep  of  the  long  lashes  on  her  cheek,  the 
virginal  beauty  of  her  low  bosom,  the  crisp,  rounded 


338      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

shoulders  and  finely  molded  arms  under  their  cloud  of 
green  mist.  More  than  ever  she  made  him  think  of 
an  orchid,  with  her  glistening  gold  hair,  and  her  in- 
credibly airy  gown  with  its  whisper  here  of  lace  and 
there  a  promise  of  palest  green  chiffon. 

The  flames  that  had  been  leaping  high  and  casting 
weird  shadows  on  ceiling  and  walls,  suddenly  sank. 
Christine  darted  from  her  chair,  and,  seizing  a  poker, 
began  to  prod  the  live  coals. 

"  Let  me  — "     Dr.  Denton  rose  too. 

"  No,  I  want  to,"  pouted  Christine  childishly. 

There  was  a  playful  wrestle  for  the  poker,  and  then 
—  neither  ever  could  explain  how  it  happened  —  a 
fiery  eye  of  coal  had  touched  the  light  chiffon,  and 
she  was  aflame. 

Almost  before  she  had  time  to  think,  to  be  fright- 
ened, he  had  beat  out  the  fire  with  his  bare  hands.  Al- 
most before  she  had  time  to  think,  to  know  what  was 
happening,  he  had  gathered  her  in  his  arms,  her  head 
was  in  the  hollow  of  his  shoulder,  and  vaguely  she 
heard  him  saying  wild  words  of  rapture ;  she  heard, 
too,  the  pounding  of  his  heart  against  her  own. 

Then  he  bent  down,  drew  her  head  up,  and,  fram- 
ing her  face  in  his  hands,  kissed  her  lips.  The  next 
instant  he  released  her,  and  threw  himself  into  a  chair, 
plunging  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  Brute !  "  he  gritted  between  his  teeth. 

The  quiet  was  unbroken  except  for  the  steady  down- 
pour, and  the  occasional  crackle  and  snap  of  a  coal. 
Dr.  Denton  still  sat,  head  bowed,  and  Christine  still 
stood  motionless,  rapt,  where  he  had  left  her. 

"  Docky,"  the  whisper  came  little  more  than  a 
breath,  but  he  heard  it. 


A  GRATE  FIRE  AND  —  THE  END     339 

"  Christine !  "  He  was  on  his  feet  again,  and  even 
in  the  dim  wavering  light  of  the  fire  she  could  see  the 
ashy  pallor  of  his  face,  the  dark  distress  in  his  eyes. 
"  Can  you  ever  forgive  me,  child  ?  I  never  can  for- 
give myself." 

For  answer  her  arms  went  up  and  encircled  his 
neck.  Her  lips  brushed  his  cheek.  Then  she  drew 
his  head  down,  his  face  so  close  to  hers  that  he  could 
see  only  those  deep,  brown  velvet  eyes  flecked  with 
gold.  "I'll  —  I'll  never  forgive  you  if  you  don't  do 
it  again." 

Their  lips  clung  for  one  exquisite  moment,  then 
gently  he  put  her  from  him.  "  You  don't  know  — 
you  don't  understand,  dearest " —  he  was  trying  to 
pull  himself  together  — "  you're  so  young.'? 

"  Time'll  soon  change  that,"  she  smiled  up  at  him, 
with  alluring  audacity.  "  I'll  grow  older  by  leaps  and 
bounds.  I'm  ten  years  older  now  than  I  was  last 
September." 

Involuntarily  he  made  a  move  to  draw  her  to  him 
again,  then  dropped  his  arms  with  a  groan.  "  You're 
not  at  fault,  Goldilocks.  You're  just  perfect.  It's  I 
—  I  that  must  seem  like  a  doddering  old  grandfather." 

"  A  grandfather !  Oh,  Docky !  You've  always 
been  —  though  I  didn't  always  know  it  —  and  no 
matter  what  happens,  you'll  always  be  —  my  fairy 
prince."  Her  face  was  transfigured  with  the  light 
that  shines  for  only  one  man.  He  saw  it  and  ac- 
knowledged it  in  every  fiber  of  his  being,  but  still  he 
managed  to  keep  his  hands  at  his  sides. 

"  I  could  not  give  you  the  setting  of  wealth  you've 
always  known,"  he  said,  quietly. 

"  Not  always,  Docky,  not  for  the  best  part  of  my 


340      CHRISTINE  OF  THE  YOUNG  HEART 

life.  Yes,  these  months  have  been  the  best  part  of 
my  life.  Oh,  I've  learned,  and  " —  suddenly  she  flung 
out  her  hands  towards  him  in  an  expressive  gesture  — 
"  and  I've  lived  since  that  afternoon  you  brought  me 
home  from  the  club.  It  isn't  money  or  fame  or  any- 
thing like  that  that  counts,  Docky;  it's  Just  love." 

The  sweetness  of  her  was  pouring  fire  into  his  veins 
like  a  draught  of  some  rare  old  wine.  He  made  a 
move  as  if  to  gather  her  close  to  him,  but  stopped 
himself  —  his  misgivings  had  not  been  banished. 
"You're  forgetting,  Goldilocks,  your  career.  You 
have  an  undeniable  gift  straight  from  the  gods  and  — " 

"  Docky,"  she  broke  in,  and  her  face  was  beautiful 
in  its  enthusiasm,  "  love  is  stronger  than  work  or  fame 
or  anything.  I  found  that  out  to-night.  I  don't 
want  to  dance  for  money.  It's  —  it's  " —  she  groped 
for  the  right  word  — "  it's  profaning  the  loveliness  of 
the  art  to  dance  for  money  —  I  want  to  dance  just 
for  the  sheer  love  of  it.  I  knew  that  when  I  was 
dancing  to-night  —  for  you." 

"  My  darling !  My  little  love-girl !  "  His  arms 
were  about  her,  his  lips  on  hers. 

The  storm  had  spent  its  fury  and  only  the  faintest 
tinkle-tinkle  of  rain-drops  was  to  be  heard  when 
Christine  gently  drew  herself  away  from  Dr.  Denton's 
arms  and  moved  all  of  an  inch  from  him  on  the  daven- 
port, the  better  to  see  his  face. 

"  Tell  it  to  me  all  over  again.  When  was  the  very 
first  minute  you  loved  me  —  Paul  ?  " 

"  Little  Gift  of  God,"  he  strained  her  close  again, 
"  the  very  first  minute  I  set  eyes  on  you,  I'm  half  in- 
clined to  believe." 

"  Docky,"  she  whispered,  her  lips  close  to  his  ear, 


A  GRATE  FIRE  AND  —  THE  END     341 

"  I  dreamed  you  —  you  kissed  me  that  night  in  your 
car,  and  called  me  little  love-girl." 

"  Brute  that  I  was,"  he  half  groaned.  "  I  com- 
pletely lost  my  head  that  night,  and  was  ready  to  shoot 
myself  when  I  thought  of  Cort  and — " 

The  red  of  the  coals  in  the  grate  had  faded  into  the 
gray  of  ashes,  with  here  and  there  a  tiny  fiery  winking 
eye,  when  Dr.  Denton  said,  "  I  wonder  if  you  realize 
it's  going  to  be  rather  hard  on  you  to  be  a  doctor's 
wife,  Goldilocks.  And  now  with  that  big  hospital  — " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  Docky,"  she  cut  in. 
"  You'll  have  to  be  away  from  me  a  great  deal  and 
all  that.  But  when  the  hospital's  running  there'll 
surely  be  something,  oh,  perhaps  a  tiny  little  thing 
that  I  can  do  to  help.  But  I  don't  see  why  I  need  to 
wait  for  that,"  her  tone  was  colored  with  youthful 
enthusiasm,  "  I  can  find  something  to  do  in  the  tem- 
porary hospital  if  — " 

It  was  his  turn  to  interrupt.  "  You,  child,  you  with 
your  distaste  for  illness,  and  sick-rooms  and — cripples." 

"  The  Christine  of  a  year  ago  used  to  feel  like  that, 
and  —  and,"  her  laugh  broke  forth  irresistibly,  "  this 
Christine  hasn't  entirely  outgrown  it,  either.  But  she's 
coming  on,  Docky,  she's  coming  on."  She  stopped; 
then, 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  old  sampler  of  Freddy 
Blue's?  "  she  asked,  with  a  sweet  seriousness  that  made 
him  draw  her  close  to  him  again.  "  I  can't  quite  re- 
member the  queer  old  verse,  but  it's  something  about 
helping  the  lame  dogs  you  meet  over  the  stile.  You've 
been  doing  that  for  years,  Docky.  I  want  to  give 
them  a  helping  hand,  too." 

THE    END 


^S&tejy 


OOQ 


364 


